Who is the real Colin McIntyre? Is it the introspective loner who wistfully croons his way through piano ballads like a Scottish Chris Martin? Or the crotchety young fogey who loves to moan about the creeping Americanisation of his beloved island of Mull? It doesn't really matter because no matter what persona he's adopting, McIntyre writes beautifully quirky pop songs that take just a couple of listens to lodge firmly in the memory bank. His third album may have been recorded in London and New York, but it retains the small-town outsider spirit that gives this one-man-band his endearingly maverick character. If he could just nail the one hit single he so badly deserves, a David Gray-style breakthrough could well be on the cards. Until then, this is an exclusive society that's well worth joining.
