The late nineties and early noughties glut of achingly independent American movies; Rushmore, Napoleon Dynamite, Lost in Translation all had an equally obscure soundtrack – all the better to match the idiosyncrasy we witnessed on screen – an aural rendition of the absurdity, the loneliness, the melancholy.
The first play of Keep a Private Room Behind the Shop had an equivalent audio/visual effect on me. A blink and you’ll miss it opener of ‘Eyes Eyes Eyes’; hesitating keys and high pitched ethereal vocals that suddenly bumps into the incessantly, maddeningly, gorgeously repeating bars of a playful string riff in ‘Forgets Slowly’. With it, Tom Rosenthal sets out his debut stall; offering wares studded with rousing lyric which play with pace, range and harmony in a manner which keeps it all on the right side of twee.
I defy anyone hearing the repeat of the verse of ‘Away With the Fairies’ – a proclamation that the world is full of mutual respect, understanding and love (though not a courtesy extending to Robert Mugabe) – not to stop what they are doing and cock their head like a bemused and intrigued Springer Spaniel. Offset as it is against a cacophony of a vocal innovation that is so fun it is hard not to engage with. Elsewhere, we get the introduction of a female vocal accompaniment in ‘Tony’; the unexpected harmony, the lilting piano and the repetitious lyrics immediately pleases.
Perhaps the most ambitious tracks – and the ones that help form the backbone of the album – are ‘Toby Carr’s Difficult Relationship with Tuna’ which details a narrative of the eponymous hero’s relationship with the world and ‘The Boy’; an even deeper narrative following a fantastic journey our character takes in a spectral hot air balloon.
Both contain affecting solo piano accompaniments which draw comparison with artists such as Regina Spektor -adrift as they are on a meandering narrative and awash with a stirring idiosyncrasy. On the former, the romantic pathos of the lyric (“In the dead of night / he drew them high on city walls / in the light of day / he showed the girl he loved”) is lifted by a sweetly forlorn violin. On ‘The Boy’ it is propelled sedately by a lyrical rhythmic pace and narrative sound effects.
Perhaps neither quite yet capture the off kilter charm of Spektor in her pomp, but there is undoubtedly compelling detail in the writing and the melody. They manage to encourage repeat listening whilst simultaneously helping counter the levity or brevity of other tracks.
Throughout the collection there is an eloquent sense of optimistic melancholy and if, occasionally, it has the suggestion of a closing montage of an Indie film, then so be it. This is a bold, stylistically intriguing effort brimming with understated creative intent which will almost certainly fuel your own imagination.
Out Now
[Rating:3.5]
