Rating: 6.0 / 10.0
Joshua Radin could have been Elliott Smith. He was so close. At the beginning of his career, his work sounded a lot like early ES. He penned brooding, introspective folk music with rainy-day, double-tracked vocals. His melodies were simple, he kept the bells and whistles to a minimum, and his tunes definitely smacked of the late Smith, if a little (okay, a lot) less depressing. In the wake of Smith's untimely death, we all searched for an heir apparent, someone to fill those shoes. Everyone, it seemed, turned to someone different. I turned to Joshua Radin. Maybe I was deluding myself.
Elliott Smith's later work reflected how disturbed he became. The posthumous and exceptional
From A Basement on a Hill was his
White Album, his tortured masterwork. The sound of his music generally moved in that direction from his spare, folk-acoustic, eponymous beginnings.
Only time will tell where Joshua Radin's sound will go from here. However, there is not much in the way of genuine, noteworthy evolution on this four-song preview of his soon-to-be-released album. Radin fails to understand that evolution is not merely experimenting with different instruments, it involves change in the approach one takes to songwriting and/or arrangement and/or performance. If I've said it once, I've said it countless times, it cannot be forced or faked. It sure sounds fake on the disgustingly arranged "Lovely Tonight" - it continues to be a mystery to me why so many people decide that countrifying a perfectly good folk son is a good idea - where pedal steel and a drumbeat straight out of a Matt Pond album (i.e. a shitty, uncreative one) do nothing but get in the way of a perfectly decent melody, and characteristically good vocals.
The closest he comes is to evolution, ironically, is when he returns to his roots on the relatively raw, spare "You've Got Growin' Up To Do". Here, Radin is in his comfort zone, and pushes - however gently - against the creative boundaries his debut erected. On this track, he uses his voice (rather than the awkwardly mixed strings on "The Fear You Won't Fall") to create dynamic contrast. This cut is proof that Radin is not ready to thicken his sound just yet; he is best when he is alone with his guitar. The transition from raw to rich is not one that can be rushed (ask Sam Beam). Radin would do well to be patient, and let the change come to him, rather than trying to pound it out on a xylophone.
So this record, instead of being good, is just okay: half the tracks are inoffensive, one is great, and another is embarrassing. Radin's skill as a vocalist is still as evident as ever. If this EP is an accurate representation of the album to come, then it will not be making any record of the year lists, but it certainly will be no
Lucky (Nada Surf, you bastards; my artistic sensibility is still licking its wounds). It's a record that will satisfy fans who were content with Radin's previous work, but will perhaps come as a disappointment to those of us who had high - like, Elliott Smith high - hopes for Radin's career. But I'm no hypocrite. I'll be patient too.
-PTC
