‘Eyes Open’ by Snow Patrol

The phrase ‘difficult second album’ is widely recognised in the world of music. It refers to the problems a band can have when they’re attempting to follow up a successful first album, usually in a shorter space of time, and usually with a considerably higher degree of pressure. ‘Eyes Open’ is the fourth album by Snow Patrol, but as their first two albums failed to be noticed by more or less anyone, it feels like a second album, and it carries with it all the associated baggage.

It’s a very confident record from start to finish, and generally, the songs themselves are good, but somewhere along the way, some of the individual sparkle still on display for ‘Final Straw’ has started to vanish. ‘You’re All I Have’ opens the record in fairly standard and familiar form, ‘Hands Open’ is louder but less worthwhile. The third track, ‘Chasing Cars’ is the albums focal point – a huge hit single, and a genuine anthem, but one that’s never quite rung true for me. I’ve never really worked out way, as it’s obviously a good song, but it just feels a little too much like it was written to order, designed to be this album’s ‘Run’. That said, I’m not sure why it would matter, even if that were true. Track four, ‘Shut Your Eyes’, has always been my preference, as it doesn’t seem to have any such agenda. It’s a straightforward song, but with enough twists – notably the choral section at the end – to give it a lift were necessary. ‘It’s Beginning To Get To Me’, in contrast, has no such twists. Like track one, it’s a decent enough song, but the sort of song you imagine Gary Lightbody could write in his sleep. In the middle of the album are three songs – ‘You Could Be Happy’, ‘Make This Go On For Ever’ and ‘Set The Fire To The Third Bar’ which, between them, give the album its soul. The first and last of these three are the albums quietest moments, the first backed predominantly by glockenspiel, and the last given focus by Martha Wainright’s guest vocals. The middle is louder, and almost relentless by the end, but without the empty bluster that Snow Patrol’s noisier tracks have a tendency to suffer from – track nine, ‘Headlights On Dark Roads’, being an obvious example. The album ends well. ‘Open Your Eyes’ starts quietly and builds up to suitable ending climax, and ‘The Finish Line’ acts as a gentle epilogue to a record that, to all intents and purposes, has finished.

Overall, this album is a triumph for the band, but it’s a triumph that carries with it warning signs for the future. There is a clear progression between this album and its follow up, and not in a good way. ‘A Hundred Million Suns’ would ignore all the good things about this album, and instead, amplify all its weaker points. Time will tell whether this would be an irreversible slide.

‘Burlesque’ by Bellowhead

I’ve never really taken to folk music, and I’ve always felt vaguely guilty about it for several reasons. Firstly, writing off an entire genre always feels a bit wrong, especially one which covers as much time and space as folk does – every genre surely contains some great stuff, and folk can’t be exempt. Secondly, I realise that a lot of music I like very much has some folk in its inspiration, even if that folk is several steps removed. Never-the-less, when listening to most folk music, I tend to find it hard to ward off the inevitable boredom that ensues.

Bellowhead, however, are a different prospect. My first exposure to the band was through ‘Later… with Jools Holland’ (thank you, BBC), when I’d tuned in for someone else entirely – Thom Yorke, I think, who could hardly have been more different. Far from boring, Bellowhead’s performance was a riotous cacophony of noise as traditional folk music wrestled with a brass section in what seemed a barely controllable balancing act.

Having both greatly entertained and impressed, I tracked down this, their first (and at the time, only) proper album. Happily, Bellowhead on record are almost as much fun as Bellowhead live. Occasionally, when the band are at their most traditional, the magic slips a little, but the high points are both numerous and varied – from the chaotic whirling of ‘The Jigs of Time’ to the stomp of ‘London Town’ to the gentle beauty of ‘Courting Too Slow’ and ‘Across The Line’.

As a band, Bellowhead are something of a side project from a number of well respected folk musicians. The Bellowhead project is a chance to revive some traditional folk favourites and to give them an edge. It could be argued, therefore, that the whole thing is something of a novelty vanity act. This may very well be true, but it doesn’t diminish this album’s brilliance.

'Beautiful News' by Matt Redman

'Beautiful News' is the 8th album by Matt Redman, coming an incredible 13 years after his debut. A lot had changed in this time. Redman had moved on from Soul Survivor, the festival that was for many years his natural home, and surrendered his status as the UKs great young worship songwriter to Tim Hughes. By the time of 'Beautiful News', he was more like a Kendrick to his generation, and I imagine he'll remain so - always there, continuously producing new stuff, but never quite having the impact he once did.

I'm not sure where we got this from. I think it was a present bought for Tessa, and I vaguely remember having trouble getting it to play on my mp3 player properly. By the time I'd got the problem resolved, the moment had passed, so I listened today with a fresh perspective.

As an album, 'Beautiful News' is mature, well produced, and never less than decent. That said, there's little on it get excited about. It falls into the all-too-unsatisfying category of overt-worship albums full of songs that wouldn't really work congregationally. As a result, it's hard to know what to do with it. Only 'You Never Let Go' stands out as a song that would work in churches, though personal experience tells me it's a struggle to actually sing - too high in the chorus, and too low in the voice if you transpose it.

So, all-in-all, it's pretty good, but I can't see myself listening to it again in a hurry.

'At War With The Mystics' by The Flaming Lips

This is an album I had as a Christmas present a couple of years back. It was given to me along with their previous album, both of which I'd asked for, but it was this one that stuck. The Flaming Lips are a somewhat experimental band, and this album shows them at their most conventional. That said, all things are relative.

It's album you can more or less pass judgement on immediately. The first track, 'The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song' is a catchy, slightly riotous and vaguely unhinged song. You can love it, or you can hate it, but I don't think there's a lot of space between those two positions. If you don't enjoy it, there's little point in continuing - all the adjectives I've just used pretty much apply to the album as a whole. Even when the tempo drops, as it frequently does, there's still a lot going on.

If I had to guess, I'd say big Flaming Lips fans would be a bit sniffy about this record - they'd probably judge it to be too commercial, and too far from the band's anarchic spirit. Well, it isn't - it's the sound of The Flaming Lips learning to produce something with some focus, and as a result, it's great.

'9' by Damien Rice

It would be fair to say that Damien Rice had mixed feelings about the success of album number one. '9', the follow up, seems to be one long attempt to ensure that fame would pass him by. The opening track ('9 Crimes', also, inexplicably, the album's lead single) is a mournful piano track which doesn't even feature Rice's vocals until halfway in - it's left to long-term collaborator Lisa Hannigan to do the honours. The term 'slow burner' doesn't come close to doing it justice.

There are moments of beauty throughout '9'. Some, like 'Dogs' and 'Grey Room' are a gentle pleasure, some, notably 'Elephant' are howling wails of pain. 'Rootless Tree' is pretty much the only song that screams "single", but it's blessed with a chorus that no radio playlister could touch with a bargepole. Deviations from the acoustic-guitar-plus-a-couple-of-stringed-instruments formula have a mixed success rate. 'Animals', which builds from sparse beginnings into a grand orchestral swirl, is very good indeed. 'Me, My Yoke & I' isn't - too simple an idea for too long.

The end of the album is something of a disappointment. 'Accidental Babies' is long, but forgettable, and 'Sleep Don't Weep' is much the same. It's easy to imagine Rice deliberately finishing this way, allowing the album to limp to a close as a further way of sabotaging success.

So all in all, '9' is a mixed bag, but even when it misses the mark, Rice's genuine talent shows through. He may be miserable, but I'd choose his misery over the vast majority of other singer songwriters. Damien Rice, or James Blunt? Easy.