The record company press release is a tricky little animal. Often cleverly disguised as an unbiased album review, it can sneak under your radar – offering the world and dropping the names of your favourite bands, like your mate who blagged his way backstage at the Big Day Out. However, much like your mate, it’s usually full of shit: “Yes sir, it’s a tasty mix of Augie March’s poetry, with the melodic ear of The Shins and the raw energy of The Strokes.” The press release is a barman who mixes up your tipple of choice – then pisses on you.

The spin sheet that came with Melbourne four-piece Blessington’s debut album, Eight Years, was selling the usual lines, with comparisons to The Go-Betweens and The Triffids abounding, while of course mentioning “a sound uniquely their own”. Interestingly though, it is not the comparisons themselves which are the problem here – the band is actually reminiscent of the two mentioned – it is the fact that beneath the surface, the country-tinged pop of Eight Years lacks almost every feature that made those bands great.

Opener ‘Under a Dry Spell Sky’ is the album’s strongest track, an ode to the drought currently afflicting much of Australia and, in a way, an ode to the country itself. “I ain’t no religious man,” wails singer and songwriter Andrew Cowie, “but the fires of hell are gonna blister this earth right through.” While not a brilliant song in either form or melody, it is reasonably affecting stuff, and it is a pity there isn’t more like it on Eight Years.

‘Tough Luck’ illustrates the problems associated with comparing a band like Blessington with, say, The Go-Betweens. Instrumentally they are indeed similar, with rollicking guitar and drums driving a uniquely Australian alt-country sound. Lyrically and vocally though, the song and the band simply aren’t up to the task. Cowie sounds like he is straining to hit almost every note he sings, while the vocal melody is completely uninspiring, uninteresting and, at some stages, almost non-existent.

The downbeat country offering ‘Vicious’ suffers not only from a shoddily-constructed vocal melody and pedestrian instrumental arrangement, but some of the worst lyrics since Daniel Johns had his life brightened by a polystyrene hat, and Daniel Jones and Darren Hayes had an ‘Affirmation’. There is no need to put you through the ordeal of experiencing the entire songsheet, but the lines: “The stars that night, yeah they burned so bright. They were the sort of stars that would send a stargazer blind,” should give you reason enough to stay away.

Clocking in at 5:44, ‘East’ demonstrates one of the fundamental problems with Eight Years. When a slow, uninteresting vocal line is coupled with lazy instrumentation and augmented by a longwinded and frankly boring guitar-and-piano-driven solo section, a band simply isn’t writing music for other people to listen to. Which isn’t a problem in itself, it’s just that, well, I have to listen to it.

Eight Years’ average song length is a shade under five minutes – far too long for straightforward pop songs – and by the time final track, ‘Hold the Fear’, comes around Blessington sound as though they’ve run out of ideas. And, all other criticisms aside, that is perhaps the most scathing thing that can be said about a group only nine songs into their debut.

The music review, much like the press release, is a difficult beast. Trying to find a balance between a record’s initial impressions and lasting ambitions is a tough tightrope to walk. Was I too harsh? Was I too lenient? Could further listens reveal more than I initially heard/felt/believed? These questions are never really answered, and this is no doubt true in the case of Eight Years.

But the fact remains that by the end of my third listen, far from being intrigued or engrossed, I was spent. By the time listen number four rolled around, I was hoping to become an aural version of Cowie’s stargazer – searching for a sonic star of such brightness it would render my auditory senses useless and put an end, however momentarily, to the dreariness.