The Dubliner with a penchant for downbeat, electro-dappled folk-pop follows up his disappointing debut with another album that looks good from the outside, but ultimately rings hollow.
It's hard to figure out David Turpin sometimes. Although his debut album 'The Sweet Used-to-Be' was a huge disappointment, it seemed that the Dubliner was certainly in possession of songwriting smarts that flared here and there. His somewhat pretentious vocals – half-whispered and terribly affected – smothered the songs, however, and proved a huge sticking point for this writer.
Fast-forward to album number two. Has Turpin refined his sound, embellishing the elements that work and banishing those that don't? Not really. There's still an excess of naval-gazing about Turpin's music that's frustrating, particularly when the songs – most of them incorporating Human League-style electronica - are otherwise strong. 'Heart-Beep', a song that could only be borne through a love of '80s poptronica, would sound infinitely catchier if Turpin had given it vocal welly, while Conor O'Brien of Villagers' guest turn on 'Polar Song' only highlights how weak Turpin's own breathy intonations are.
Unsavoury vocals and occasionally trite lyrics aside, there are some interesting ideas here. The female backing vocalists on the blissed-out 'Nightlights' elevate an ordinary song to a lush chillout number, while 'The Red Elk' adds some of the haunted atmosphere hinted at with the album's title.
For every palatable song, however, there's one that's almost laughably poor: 'The Bone Dance' and 'The Skeleton Key' sound like songs ripped from a cringey scene on Flight of the Conchords. You get the feeling that David Turpin is still trying to find his way in the world of music, and consequently seems more wrapped up in trying to be an 'artiste' that he is in the actual world of genuine songcraft. Third time lucky? We wouldn't bet on it.
