It’s always unfortunate when personal details overwhelm the so-called art. Usually this reflects the gulf between interest in product and profession—the trainwreck of Britney Spears’ personal life is far more entertaining than any song or show stamped with her name—but this trend isn’t indicative of Tim Williams. Truthfully, I would have only recognized one song by the singer/songwriter before recently (the wonderful small-time hit “Novel”), yet I had read some time ago about his intensive heart surgery to replace his left pulmonary valve. Easier bait for readers and consumers, perhaps, but don’t the respectable deserve better? Still, it’s certainly worthier than the tabloid fodder to which we’re accustomed, and his recovery could even be described as inspirational, but if his medical emergency is how you best know him (if you even know him at all), it’s time to play catch up on what you’ve been missing.
Since it would have been so easy to reroute intention based on such a titanic moment in the man’s life, it’s a testament to his skill and poise that he avoids the clichés of near-death experience and balances an outlook exhausted by turmoil and pain while being refreshingly romantic, even optimistic, in the niche of moody, emotive pop rock. Opener “I Hit Another Wall,” with synth drums and jangly guitars, expresses a desire to move past the event, while offering a chorus line so simple but effective that from a distance, it practically provokes a head slap—“I hit another wall/Just like before/Not dizzy in the head/No not again.” Elsewhere, the common theme of love and death and the confrontation of both extremes playfully demonstrated by the cover art (the back features that heart with a big bite mark) keeps us grounded enough so not to roam into soppy territory but is leavened by recurring three-note hooks and arpeggios serving as a songwriting bedrock (or crutch, as some of the less exquisite tracks make you mull).
Among the strongest moments (besides “Wall”) are the ornate melody of “Oceans” and the bending groove of “Stilts.” The former represents Williams at his most polished and produced, dense and fluttery and almost spectral in its incandescence. The latter features a gently fuzzy bassline which gives the tune grittier swerve than we’re accustomed, pushed down even harder by the contrast of Williams’ falsetto croon. The manner in which he sings is easy to resist at first only because so many others have tried to achieve the same impression with less honesty—there’s nothing dishonest about, “Yawning, I do not sleep/Wish I could stay on your bed like your sheets,” though. Nevertheless, variety might have served Williams better, as the familiarity of his octave leap and the repetition of melodies only help to spotlight the tracks that are true winners, and those that are merely fine.
Sequencing is problematic—most of the catchiest and most sprightly numbers are positioned early, leaving the back end to simmer at too great length. By the appearance of the pared, bleak ballad “Murderous Air,” the momentum has practically stalled completely (which is a shame, since on its own, “Air” is a small winner). Energy begins to rebuild with “Right All Along”’s pointed hook and the rambling rhythmic drive of “8x10,” culminating once more with the languid sigh of “I Want to Die in California,” which is well-matched by the opposition of its lead in, and a subtle, waltz-like melody that takes a few run throughs to really wrap around.
Departing from the Buckley/Adams model, Careful Love occupies a lot of the same territory as post-Britpop rock bands like Coldplay, Keane and Snow Patrol (at their least arena-starved, of course), but is rarely as reductive as they can be when the tendency for drippy melodrama to swaddle them arises. The glaring exception is “All In,” which treats the chorus vocals to an aching thrust that is nearly defeating, but Williams stares over the precipice and clings to the edge—the gamble narrowly pays off (the burrowing hook helps, too). That quick-of-the-nail success describes much of this album—there’s not a whole lot here that you haven’t heard before, and it’s fashioned/presented no more originally than anyone since those that laid the groundwork, but quietly, gradually it wins you over. Fairly brief, always tuneful, and occasionally quite catchy, Careful Love is blessedly not the soundtrack to the tale of a man saved/rejected by his personal circumstance. What he gives is earned; let’s hope we deserve it.
"Careful Love" is on sale October 19, 2010 from Dovecote.
