I suppose it is a sign of the times that men are supposed to be sensitive. I suppose there could well be a gap in the market for sensitive men in the Highlands of Scotland from whence Andrew Howie – the man behind Calamateur – hails but we are tripping over half thought out beards and shoegazing intensity down here in Glasgow.
That’s not to say that “Each Dirty Letter” is a bad album. In fact, it is, on a technical level, much better than you would expect bearing more of a resemblance to the polished sounds of the likes of American Music Club and there’s a commendable literacy to the lyrics that bodes well for Mr Howie’s career as a songwriter (especially if you need to say the same thing in a dozen different ways) but the album itself is headphone music. It’s all very meaningful and intense – and rather beautiful if you consider the contribution by Jo Mango to “Retreat” – but hardly the kind of music that would have you shouting its praises from the rooftop.
If you’ve lost your heart to a girl in a woolly cardigan then this album is the perfect paracetamol to add to your iPod’s pain killer collection. Otherwise, it will probably leave you cold. All in all, “Each Dirty Letter” is a well performed and produced album but I’d be hard pressed to give a reason to fall in love with it.