Whenever I see certain names on an accompanying artist blurb, names such as Leonard Cohen and Nick Drake, and especially when Richard Hawley makes an appearance, I tend to have mixed feelings. On the one hand, those are names whose very existence as reference points holds unique promise. I know that is all they are, reference points and touchstones, and I know that any influence might be subtle, perhaps in a mood or a nuance or a vibe rather than in sound itself, but while my heart might skip a beat, my more grounded head tells me that few could live up to such a promise.
Richard Neuberg, however, does. Perhaps more often less dark than Cohen, though no less tragically and romantically poetic, and less fragile than Drake, but still brilliantly spacious and underplayed, it is, quite wonderfully, Hawley or perhaps even a more contemporary take on Scott Walker that springs to mind as I listen to The Vine.
And although the opener, “Everything Dark is Light,” is perhaps the most Cohen-esque of titles, the song is lilting and lovely, an acoustic ballad swathed in gorgeous banks of strings and sonics, a sound that perfectly sets out the store.
“Crow Needs The Pine” does veer into darker territory, Cave-esque and cimmerian, as it lilts momenteously forward; “The Fever” swoons and sweeps on gorgeous strings that somehow dance between the serene and occasionally sinister; and “Bells and Whistles” is more hookily upbeat whilst still displaying a brooding intensity.
The Vine is an album of finger-picked finesse, heartbreak balladry, and sophisticated sonics, with songs not happy to merely play the sentimental card but instead shockingly real, surprisingly relatable, and wonderfully raw. Not bad considering that this is Neuberg’s first album in sixteen years.
