Matthew And The Atlas – This Place We Live

Indie Folk

62%

 

I noticed a pattern emerging while listening to this album’s singles, ahead of its release; I found myself drawn to the live versions moreso than the studio ones. That’s nothing too strange, artists often have a kind of spark to their live sets that can be difficult to capture in a studio. What’s curious here however is that these particular live versions were more austere affairs – just one man and his guitar, everything else had been stripped away. Sometimes less is more, and occasionally that means there’s a lot to be gained by taking something away. Listening to tracks like ‘Record Store‘ and ‘This Place We Live‘, introspective reflections on nostalgia, loss, and the nature of parenthood, it shouldn’t be too surprising that making these songs feel more raw and personal can only add to the experience. Their power stems from intimacy, forming a connection between artist and audience, and removing distractions can help deepen that connection.

Yet what works for one song may not always work for others. Sometimes more is more, simple as that! Occasionally you’ll hear a song that feels like the musical equivalent of a great low budget movie. The bare bones of brilliance are there – the compelling storytelling, adept artistry, clear command of their craft – but something is missing. The vision is solid but the execution is lacking. Sometimes a great idea is worthy of all the time, effort and expense needed to see it through to its most realised form. “Go big or go home” and all that jazz.

As a whole, This Place We Live is an album that spends most of its runtime on the fence. Its uninspiring arrangements neither showing the restraint needed to let the quieter moments stand on their own, nor having the ambition required to do the album’s most compelling hooks justice. A thin veneer of subtle synths, sparse electronics and drum machine beats laid atop a foundation of acoustic folk is the order of the day here. On the record’s more quiet and pensive moments, such as the aforementioned singles, this cold outer shell leads the tracks to lose some of their intimacy. Like a thin coat of paint over handmade wooden furniture, hiding all the grain and marks of workmanship that otherwise would give it more character. Yet by the same measure, a mere fresh coat of paint isn’t enough to breath the necessary life and interest into the record’s more upbeat moments. Opening track ‘Nineteen’ is so immensely full of potential; Its memorable chorus picking up a faint whisper of a charming synth melody about halfway through the track, teasing you with a taste of what could have been had it committed wholeheartedly to that sound. ‘You See It All’ meanwhile flirts with the idea of a quirky guitar riff, but against a backdrop of fingerpicked folk and dull droning synth hums it just ends up feeling out of place. 

Thankfully a few tracks sit comfortably in the Goldilocks zone, getting the balance between restraint and ambition just right. The melody rich ‘Codeine’ has a haunting quality to it, with the waltzing synths lending an air of romanticism, while ‘Man You Used To Know’ boasts a propulsive bass line injecting energy into the track, leading into easily the most lush arrangement on the record in its emphatic chorus. Even on the tracks that miss the mark, the foundations of the songs are strong and assured. The writing is exquisite and Matt Hegarty’s unique weathered baritone is the unshakable central pillar holding everything aloft. Sadly however my lasting impression of This Place We Live is one of untapped potential and the danger of expressing oneself in half-measures.