Augie March Watch Me Disappear (EB) by: Ed Butler Thu:02-Oct-08 Label: Sony BMG Year: 2008 WB rating 62 out of 100

Augie March seem to have little time for 'One Crowded Hour'. Brilliant song that it is, the level of one-eyed fandom it garnered rendered the song, for want of a better phrase, the band's iron lung. So much so, in fact, that frontman Glenn Richards has been known to cede to audience requests to play the song at festivals, on the proviso that "no-one leaves after we've played it!"

The reason 'One Crowded Hour' was such a rampant success was that it was Augie March’s crossover hit. It was a straight-up pop song, inflected with enough of their idiosyncratic charm and Richards' verbose lyricism to appeal to literary types, indie teens and pop tarts alike. There was no jazz lounge breakdown a la 'The Night is a Blackbird', it was not an acid-trip rockabilly stomp ('This Train is Taking no Passengers), nor was there two minutes of atmospheric warbling keys to close the song ('The Hole in Your Roof'). Augie March had built a reputation on making beautiful, poetic, unique music. 'One Crowded Hour' was a beautiful, poetic pop song.

Strange, then, that despite this clear dislike for their flagship track, their newest release, Watch me Disappear is undeniably the most unchallenging thing the band have put to record. The initial impression, conveyed by the opening, title track, is that Augie March, frustrated by the box they feel they've been placed in, were lashing out, with an 80s-inspired piece of upbeat literary rock. It takes some getting used to, but Richards' voice seamlessly shifts to sultry menace, rather than the traditional wistful bookworm.

In fact, Richards is in fine form from start to finish, stronger and more confident, while tender and introspective when need be. On 'Becoming Bryn', one of the album's better tracks, he booms "If you see me rising up through the floor with unblinking eyes/Run! Run! Run! Run! Run!", a perfect combination of warning and seduction.

Where things begin to fall down, particularly when held up against the band's previous efforts, which are widely considered seminal, is the music. Watch me Disappear feels constrained by convention. At times, it feels bereft of ideas. 'City of Rescue' tries to resuscitate 'This Train Will be Taking no Passengers', down to the clackety-clack of David Williams' drums, with added circus-tent aesthetic. Unfortunately, the band seems to forget that this song doesn't have a train in it.

'Mugged by the Mob' is the kind of slow-paced, mournful square dance the band have routinely mastered, but here, there is none of the verve of, say, 'The Night is a Blackbird', nor the stunningly pretty melody of 'Bottle Baby'. 'Farmer's Son', when compared to Augie March's elegant and erudite back catalogue, is a wide-eyed ingénue of a song; simple, yearning and earnest, but without the sophistication that Richards' lyrics demand. 'In fact, it is stunningly conventional, the kind of melody that FM radio regularly trotted out in 1986.

Of course, even a sub-par Augie March album still contains its share of great songs, and 'The Slant' is most likely the highlight. A love story/period drama in the space of three minutes, with the band given license to accompany the story with the kind of unique Augie March beauty we've all come to expect. The restrained, dramatic build up, and no pay-off, on display is the kind of mature inimitable pop that ought to have been the natural progression from 2006's Moo, You Bloody Choir.

Likewise, lead single, 'Pennywhistle', with its unashamed Paul Kelly influence, may be creatively muted when stood against 'The Keepa', but it is quite simply a lovely song. Conventional can still mean captivating. However, as a microcosm of the flaws that hold Watch me Disappear back, closing track 'The Devil in Me' is ideal. A waltz-by-numbers, replete with sweeping strings to close, it is a nice enough song, but there is nothing to convey the potential peril that the title suggests.

It would be a bold person who suggests that Augie March are courting the middle ground with this album – Richards' lyrics alone are enough to scare off the novitiate - but there is a certain unadventurous feeling to Watch me Disappear that keeps the band's full, passionate talent chained to the wall. With this album, Augie March had the opportunity to take a chance, and cement themselves at or near the top of the pantheon of Australian artists, to build on the majesty that was Sunset Studies and Strange Bird. Instead, they played it safe. Nice and safe.