David Kilgour The Far Now by: Justin Pearsall Mon:19-Feb-07 Label: Merge Year: 2007 WB rating 58 out of 100

The Far Now is folk-cum-pop-cum-mild-psychedelia. Confused? Well, so is David Kilgour. While there is nothing intrinsically wrong with the deliverance of a hotchpotch of influences – see The Beatles Sgt Pepper and Yo La Tengo’s I Am Not Afraid Of You And I Will Beat Your Ass – if you are going to genre jump you sure better have the musical foresight to ensure that what you’re throwing at the wall is sticking. Otherwise our inconsistent little friend will be left to a destiny of destitution and a shelf-life of lining the bargain bins at Cash Converters. Such is the fate of The Far Now. While Kilgour has produced some memorable songwriting here, there is little on the album that hasn’t been done before – and by somebody better.

While this summary of The Far Now reads like a bleak obituary, it’s not all bad news for fans of Kilgour and to say that it is inconsistent means that for every sour moment there is another that shines. ‘BBC World’ is one example of Kilgour’s patchy songwriting nous. The pop hooks on the track and its breezy summer flow seem ready made for walking on warm summer days, chirping along with the birds. Up-tempo and open, this is Kilgour at his best, full of optimism and brevity. The distinct presence of post-Beatles George Harrison hangs like an apparition over this song and the entire album as Kilgour is unable to transcend or veer away from his obvious affections to the former Beatle.

‘BBC World’ is the best of The Far Now, but it is not the only time Kilgour excites as ‘Sun God’s’ flash of freak-folk eccentricity is a welcoming opener. The tune again is Harrison influenced, the resemblance linked to the Beatles period where George was off in India presumably smoking a lot of pot, learning how to play sitar and trying to indoctrinate all of his Beatles pals into the left-of-centre Hinduism of the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi – who like his namesake Yogi Bear captivated a surprisingly wide, cult-like following. The droning element of ‘Sun God’, its chaotic instrumentation and ethereal: “I’m trying to capture that whole ‘I’m a Dalai Lama singing from a mountaintop’ thing that Lennon was after on ‘Tomorrow Never Knows’”, all contributes to the intrigue and makes for a memorable listen.

But you can only survive on other people’s ideas for so long and ‘Under Cloud’ sounds wearingly like a long discarded The Sleepy Jackson B-side. While Luke Steele is himself guilty of pilfering Harrison’s signature sounds, he is visionary enough to surround these influences in such wide sweeping grandiosity that he breathes new life into this timeless pop. Kilgour is equipped with a fitting Steele-like warble, he has mastered the heavily reverberated guitar and conjured up Lovers-era lyrical simplicity: “Love has gone and flown the shoot/When it came along to soon … Standing in the rain,” but ‘Under Cloud’ never feels like it is expanding on the past – rather it is leeching from it.

Kilgour’s saunter into different genres is similarly too reliant on influence. As the guitar-led ‘I Cut My Heart Out At Once’ and ‘Out Of The Moment’ sound like two odes to the blues-folk of ‘60s icon Bert Jansch. While I can understand that Kilgour’s easy listening has led some reviews to catchcries like “dreamy” or “syrupy”, it is misplaced to believe that The Far Now is “triumphant”. Why? Because triumph implies a sense of victory or conquest, and while such light-hearted listening is pleasant, there is nothing on this album that isn’t being done equally as well, and more consistently, by somebody else.

If this needs qualification then ‘I Cut My Heart Out At Once’ is the most blatant example. This song is a worthwhile, well-crafted folk tune sung from a man who can hold his notes and play his instrument. This feat is enviable, but Kilgour’s folk-blues never reaches the sonic splendour, rusticity and sheer authenticity of a true folk troubadour like Bert Jansch. Kilgour consistently comes across second best in these comparisons and while in many pursuits finishing second is admirable – for example: Olympic events, chess championships and pie eating contests –, in music there is no space for those that fall behind. They simply get washed over and doomed to bargain bin mediocrity.

Throughout this review I have told you quite a deal about what David Kilgour is not. He does not have the genuineness of Bert Jansch, he does not have the vision of Luke Steele and he does not have the pedigree of George Harrison. But, The Far Now is a collection of well-crafted and eminently listenable songs. The first disappointment in hearing such a set of songs is that the album never binds together like an album should. This is disheartening. But the major crime in all of this is that, despite Kilgour’s obvious talents, there is nothing on this album to suggest to me that this record is anything but a product of its influences.