Calling your first album Magpie is a bit risky - it implies that all you've done is lifted bits from other people's styles. And indeed, Stephen Fretwell's debut contains echoes of lots of other singer-songwriters, with Bob Dylan, Nick Drake and Chris Martin being merely the most obvious suspects. The formula is as familiar as ever: one moody young man (from Scunthorpe in this case), one guitar and a collection of heartfelt compositions about love, loss and the pain of not having a girlfriend. Some of the songs soar gracefully, others sink into the kind of self-pitying sludge that inspired Alan McGee to call Coldplay 'music for bedwetters'. Fretwell has a pleasant voice and he may well yet develop into a serious talent. But in a genre that's already dominated by the likes of Damien Rice and David Gray, this album doesn't do enough to stand out from the competition.

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