For years now, so his cheerleaders (eg Chris Martin) would have us believe, Ron Sexsmith has been teetering on the precipice of gigantic, head-spinning, success. Sexsmith is a song-writing galactico, we have been told, whose relatively lowly status could surely only be explained away by some particularly toxic kismet, karma or fate.
In truth, Sexsmith doesn’t really bring enough to the party to warrant access to the head table. Lacking the esoteric, second-glance edges of Will Oldham, Songs: Ohia and Howe Gelb, or the pristine, crowd-pleasing, accomplishment of Ryan Adams and Ray Lamontagne, he seems destined to remain battling in the upper end of mid table.
Judging by Destination Unknown, however, this isn’t a situation he’s in any hurry to remedy.
Roping in long-term sparring partner Don Kerr to share vocals, Sexsmith makes no bones about the fact that this album is a low-key labour of love. Trumpeting the brothers Everly and Louvin as primary influences, it’s an album that takes male harmonising as its motivating force - at times it sounds as if the duo spent the entire recording singing with their foreheads touching.
The effect can be wonderful. ‘Only Me’ and ‘Diana Sweets’ offer masterclasses in tears and beers countrified ballads. ‘Tree-Lined Street’ is a closing track that deserves to play over the end credits of an A-list Hollywood weepie.
That said, behind the excellence of the vocals (and all those years on the road have ingrained an intuitive Rush/Dalglish-like interplay between the pair), a scaffolding of equivalently memorable material is sorely lacking.
Destination Unknown is a pristine, pleasant and diverting record, but nowhere amongst its 13 tracks is there any sense of risk-taking.
Not that Sexsmith will be bothered. Mid-table, after all, means you can look up and down.