ALBUM: Beck Goldsmith ‘Lustre & Curve’

Beck Godsmith delivers a warm and fuzzy new album, which never quite leaves its mark.
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About five tracks into Beck Goldsmith’s new album, Lustre & Curve, I stopped asking myself what I thought. That can be good or bad depending on how you look at it; on the one hand, you have a perfectly inoffensive, prettily-voiced singer oozing out choral folk music which wouldn’t say boo to a goose, and on the other you have – well, just that.

There’s nothing wrong with pretty folk music. In fact, I quite like it. It’s good for those particularly reflective hangovers (the ones where you start to wonder why you haven’t connected with nature for a while). Here you have an extremely talented multi-instrumentalist with a lovely voice, dribbling out songs that wash over you without actually getting your hair wet. It’s not so much that the album doesn’t leave its mark: songs like ‘Simple Plan’ and opening number ‘Cold Light’ hold a certain impactful beauty which you’d have to be fairly implacable to ignore, not to mention a clear aptitude for writing music.

Lyrically, too, there are flashes of interest – hinting at something deeper beneath: “I could answer back; no one would hear me/I could light a match; no one would see” (‘For All You Saw’), but in many ways that all makes the whole thing more confusing. Where’s the crescendo? Never mind the crescendo, where’s the bridge? You can’t just start every sentence with the words “There’s a – ” and then shove some stuff after it – that’s cheating. Or, at least, it’s not exactly taking us to where we need to go.

Try as I did to give this record a fighting chance, I found I couldn’t forgive it for always taking the easy way out. Goldsmith is talented enough to inspire confidence from the off, but doesn’t seem interested in surprises enough to make it worth your while. Maybe that’s its real strength, too: it doesn’t feel the need to be anything in particular. And that’s fine, it really is, but if we’re going to be harsh for a second, what is it that’s going to make me listen to it?

This is an album for people who enjoy driving at a constant 65mph in the slow lane of a motorway: it gets you from A to B in excellent time and with a minimum of fuss, but in the end the journey’s as memorable as the suburban retail park you drove to, to pick up a pair of discount trainers.

Here’s the thing – well, the other thing: this is a breakup album. It speaks of the personal heartache inflicted by the breakdown of Goldsmith’s marriage, and whilst lyrically she’s able to make a fair dent in one’s hollow chest, the music and tone surrounding the words hang about in patches of damp mist. Where’s the shriek and stretch of vocal outcry?

Before I start getting angry letters and tweets from recently heartbroken fans of her work, far from me wishing emotional distress on anyone, I simply can’t help wondering what facilitates such vanilla writing against such a notoriously foul-tasting topic. Beautiful, frustrating, relaxing, joyful and baffling – all things that Lustre & Curve has the essence of being, without ever treading too far over the boundary of what is definite. And for that, I could hug it or haul it with near-equal conviction.

Lustre & Curve is released on 26th January via Mighty Village Records Ltd.

Pete Cary
@PeterCary1

Pete Cary

Pete Cary

Pete Cary

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