Whereabouts

The first time I saw Ron Sexsmith live, I was immediately struck by the gentle, almost unobtrusive way in which his songs meandered into my head. I was so impressed that the next day I rushed out and purchased Other Songs, a quite beautiful album in its own, unique, low-key way. Whereabouts, on the other hand, sees Sexsmith’s distinctive voice surrounded by an ever-widening circle of instruments, as he goes for the big production job.

For this listener, the power of Ron Sexsmith’s songs was in their quiet, unharried nature: tracks like ‘Strawberry Blonde’ or ‘April After All’ didn’t need a big sound to work their wily charms on you. The new album, in contrast, is more of an epic production, with the result that Sexsmith veers dangerously close to a myriad of other, less talented, bland songwriters from across the Atlantic.

‘Right About Now’ opens with a funky bassline, and adds some smooth guitar work before a sweeping string section carries the song into the middle of the road. Similarly, the overembellished ‘Beautiful View’ dilutes what could be a wonderful song into daytime radio-friendly mush. There are simply too many instruments clamouring to be heard, relegating his voice and his lyrics to a bit-part when they should take centre stage.

When he keeps it simple, as on the wonderful ‘Riverbed’, Sexsmith can quietly captivate. Also, ‘The Idiot Boy’, with its nod to Nashville, proves that the Canadian can still pen a mean tune when the mood takes him: "God so loved the idiot world/ He gave it his only son to kick around/ That was long ago in another town/ (It could use a good laugh now)".

Too many of the songs sound like he’s operating on autopilot, though, with none of the natural warmth or the pared down beauty of his previous work. Whereabouts is not a terrible album and hasn’t quite been polished to within an inch of its life, but the majority of its 12 songs leave this listener unmoved. That in itself is a heinous crime, when you consider just how good Sexsmith can be.