Title: snnnnnnore....
Product review: There's been quite a bumper-crop of guitar-strumming/finger-picking, breathy-voiced, heart-on-their-sleeves, male singer-songwriters of late, all harkening back in one way or another to the original, Nick Drake. Damien Rice is, in my estimation, the bost boring of the bunch. Few things distinguish a song from any other one on the album. Most have the same tempos, arrangements, and melodic movement intended to be evocative of longing and melancholy. Even given the high quality of the sound, playing and whatnot, I think this is an awful album. I sincerely wish that folks would stop comparing Rice to Jeff Buckley. Jeff Buckley was an absolute genius, a man who could have been his generation's pop-Beethoven, but Damien Rice will be more or less forgotten within three to five years, with only a small core of fans to watch him when he plays small coffeeshops throughout the country, before he moves back to the UK to become a bank manager or something.
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