Review Summary: That guy that sings on the new MasterCard advert. Nice.
Fink – Biscuits for Breakfast
Fink, fronted by Brighton-boy Fin Greenall, is the band you’re hearing on that new
priceless MasterCard advert, “the road less travelled”. Now, I could make the typical
priceless replica joke, but I don’t think I’m ready to break out the big guns just like that. Much like the way “Biscuits for Breakfast”, Fink’s second Ninja Tune release, isn’t prepared to break any boundaries, rather meandering their way around 38 minutes of acoustic sensibility and moody melodies.
When I first heard the advert on TV, I immediately recognized the soothing, slurred vocals and trademark acoustic guitar, but I couldn’t put my finger on who the voice behind the credit card belonged to. It took a few listens for me to recall the unique sound, but when I did, I received a strange satisfaction and a few minutes later, “Pretty Little Thing”, the first track on the record, was gently easing itself out of my speakers to the rhythm of reminiscence.
Greenall’s bluesy slurs really make Fink what it is, and it’s tempting to label the band as just a single singer/songwriter, but without Guy Whittaker on bass and Tim Thornton on drums a lot of the record’s wholeness would disappear. It is Greenall’s band though, and he guides the listener through nine simple songs that, through experience, have proved great for headaches and hangovers. As easy listens go, this is a walk in the park. It’s neither too long nor too short, offering pleasantly simple melodies from Greenall’s finger picked guitar, while still providing a darker, drunken edge in the form of the frontman’s tranquil, almost seductive slurs and catchy-but-corny lyrics.
There’s no real reason to hate the album, but there’s even less reason to love it. Overly simple, unspectacular, and unoriginal, we’ve seen this many times before. Some people were calling Fin the English Jose Gonzalez but, with no disrespect, he’s no where near as skilled with his instrument. The electronic influence in the album is not even worth mentioning. The lyrics are often achingly cliché, and occasionally wince-worthy, and everything in the album just about keeps its head above the ocean of boredom.
The album’s life-ring though, its saving grace, arrives in the shape of modesty and grace weaved into the fabric of its bluesy edge and floating acoustics. I hate the word nice, it barely describes anything that well, but if I were to use it on one album, this would be have to be the one.
Length of Fink’s second album, Biscuits for Breakfast – 38 minutes and 2 seconds.
Time it took to write this review – About 45 minutes and something seconds.
Verdict on the album - (Not exactly) Timeless.
My deepest apologies for that.
