Let something so wistful gloss over you that you’ll feel as though a satin scarf has been slowly manoeuvred along your resting body while you lay there in just your pants, recovering from a night where you absolutely promised yourself ‘I won’t have more than a couple of beers‘ but your pal Joe has other ideas. Anyway, that scarf is a bit like the way Dom Robinson‘s latest beaut feels on the ears.
It’s a right bit of tenderness this, with vocals that’ll put doubt in your mind about every last decision you’ve ever made being backed up by some folky goodness that rises in intensity just like the realisation of how bad this hangover could be. There’s a big ol’ big of pop stylings thrown in there but it’s that actually decent kind that ends up leaving you emotionally drained despite the fact not a damn thing has happened to you. Leeds has produced many a grand artists over the years and this fella might just be teetering on the edge of that list if it were to be pinned up on a noticeboard in the hallway outside the God of music’s office.
Get a bit soppy, a bit soft, or whatever you’re meant to be when you listen to something that’s not bounding indie-pop or blazing guitars. Just get this on and perhaps, perhaps, some of what I’ve been rambling about might make a jot of sense.