So you can’t think of anything to buy for those on your Christmas list who are not near the cutting edge of contemporary rock/dance/ trad? Fret not, for help is at hand.
Liam Lawton is an off-duty priest who writes and sings, and is packaged here in an impressive widescreen production, blending elements of new age bombast with mildly interesting philosophising about the nature of time. There’s a real grown-up orchestra, plus unimaginative twitterings about love, grief, loneliness etc, alongside harmless suggestions that if we could only be strong, have faith, keep searching and listen, everything would be hunky dory. Of course it will.
Lawton has a sturdy warm voice, and thankfully avoids the nasal whinings of a whole line of (s)trained Irish singers. On tracks like ‘Diamond In The Dark’ and ‘The Silence And The Sorrow’ he eschews the over-emotive excesses of his rivals and just delivers the songs with neither fuss nor frills. Actor Mick Lally brings an evocative spoken passage to ‘Glendalough’ before the orchestra sweeps in with an equally fine depiction of that place. ‘Believe’ is one of the better tracks, while ‘Ever Have The Time’ is so soppily sentimental it reawakens one’s fear of Celine Dion.
Sleeve notes bearing questionable clichés like “There’s no time like the present” will help steer this album to a fairly cosy and predictable market. Lawton is doing much to right the sins committed by supposedly serious Irish singers of the past, but it’s a pity his ambitions don’t stretch a little further.