Sodastream
A Minor Revival

If quiet is the new loud which was the new quiet which in turn was the new loud, then Sodastream document it lovingly. If you’re of the persuasion that indie-folk music lost its relevance either (a) when The Str*kes turned up, (b) when David Gray released another record or (c) when Kings Of Convenience naffed off to Beefa, then the ‘Stream’s third album, ‘A Minor Revival’, gives you further reason to reconsider.

Far from being NAM veterans, Sodastream seem to be getting stronger and more courageous by each release whilst remaining a gentle proposition. The Belle & Sebastien comparisons are virtually inescapable, mostly due to Karl Smith’s fragile quiver of a voice, and if so inclined may heighten your urge to mess about in boats with Camera Obscura. This is evident in tracks like ‘Mrs Gray’ (schoolkids infatuated by a women in tight blue jeans, you say?) but is often accompanied by Pete Cohen’s warm double bass tones, reminiscent of the beauty in Fairport Convention or Young People recordings. ‘Undone’ sounds like primetime Hefner gone country, and _ ‘Blinky’_ has the sort of ‘Forever Changes’-style brass arrangement that seem to suit the summer sunset down to the ground.

It’s pleasant without forsaking content, it’s joy dressed as melancholy (or vice versa), it’s songs lovingly hand-crafted to show a small voice becoming its own rousing chorus. It seems this sort of peaceful protest will (thankfully) endeavour, and if you want your heart soothed then there are much worse places to turn. Be gentle.