Malcolm Middleton Sleight of Heart by: Dan Osmolowski Thu:08-May-08 Label: Full Time Hobby Year: 2008 WB rating 60 out of 100

Somehow, Arab Strap would make the most sordid, depressingly normal details of the socially retarded seem interesting and, actually, uplifting. There was a comfort to be had in hearing Aidan Moffat’s tales of sheer inadequacy and thinking, ‘Hey, I thought I was a sad fuck.” I used to wonder how much of the Falkirk duo’s self-deprecating shtick was Moffat and how much was the doing of his partner in grime, Malcolm Middleton. The multi-instrumentalist’s debut solo recording, 5:14 Fluoxytine Seagull Alcohol John Nicotine, answered that question. His voice was lighter than Moffat’s, more hopeful, less miserable. Middleton lifted the pub fug and opened up a whole new audience to tales that were still a long way from life affirming – hell, ‘We’re All Going To Die’ (from 2007’s A Brighter Beat) even reached number 31 in the UK singles chart.

Sleight of Heart was originally devised as an acoustic covers record, but Middleton recorded a few originals after A Brighter Beat and the project turned into this – a mini-album comprising six originals and three covers. The thing that is immediate about Sleight of Heart is the vibrancy that these songs take on. Barry Burns’ (Mogwai) piano contributions play a large part in this. On opener, ‘Week Off’, his bright and bouncy playing provides the perfect foil to Middleton’s busy, finger-plucked acoustic.

Things are clearly looking up for Middleton on this record; ‘We can get on/With our lives/Step to the beat/Get back in light,’ he sings. Instead of mulling over a pint in a scabby din of a pub, Middleton and Co. almost sound like they are playing before the nouveau riche on the latest winery tour. It is no coincidence that this is the major sticking point on Sleight of Heart. The songs, courtesy of very clean and crisp production, all sound a little too ‘nice’. This style of production is certain to find favour with MOJO magazine or the fans of ‘folk-lite’ that lap up Jack Johnson and Damien Rice. But for those that crave a little more edge to their music, this may be a difficult pill to swallow. On A Brighter Beat the acoustic numbers had an authenticity about them. They were resonant, slightly murky and each element bled into each other to create a sense of depth.

There is no doubt that Middleton has created a catchy set of songs. “Sing along with the sad song/Sing along/Sing along,” Middleton urges us during ‘Blue Plastic Bags’ and one can almost hear the commercial radio listeners following his lead as they drive their economy-sized cars with frangipani stickers on the rear window. The joyful refrain doesn’t quite sit comfortably with the rest of the narrative’s slacker anthem lyrics – with lines like “Staying in/Is the new going out,” and “We are all listening to downbeat shite,” this could be the new ‘Creep’. By ‘Total Belief’, Middleton’s confessionals become tired – it’s almost like he is attempting to move beyond the image (that he contributed in perpetuating) of an introverted alcoholic, but is struggling for ideas to the contrary. His suggestion on ‘Week Off’ is almost prophetic: “It’s easy hating yourself/It’s hard making a rhyme” – unfortunately for Middleton, it has become an uncomfortable reality.

‘Follow Me Down’ is the only track to possess any real emotional pull. But even it is restrained by some thin production and Middleton’s desire to withhold any other instrumentation save for his guitar, voice, backing vocals and a tambourine. The opportunity for this to be the album’s centerpiece is lost to some misguided desire for acoustic authenticity – on A Brighter Beat this would have been a great song that attacked the listener with a ‘ballsy’ rhythm section, some swirling keyboards and dirty guitar.

Part of me is fighting an adverse reaction to this album because of its sheer ‘niceness’. No one asked that Middleton continue on the journey of self-loathing that began with Arab Strap and, don’t get me wrong, this is not selling out – James Blunt has too strong a stranglehold on palatable ‘miserabilist’ MOR for Middleton to even contemplate plundering those depths. Everyone has to get happy (relatively speaking for Middleton) sometime and it is only natural that this is reflected in whatever outlet, creative or not, that one chooses. Listening to Sleight of Heart however, it seems that Middleton is confused as to what sort of artist he wants to be. On this occasion he is grinding gears, stuck somewhere between being underground and underwhelmed.