Fife man chooses wrong path

For, at its best, the Fife singer-songwriter's 25-minute set sees him as a budding Bill Bailey, replete with musical pastiche and whimsy.

It's only unfortunate that his self-deprecating anecdotes are punctuated by songs.

Not that these are bad, as such. Tracks such as Exit Wound and Classic Northern Diversions are literate, clever and he certainly knows how to work his voice and acoustic guitar in a venue of this size.

It's just that, averaging five minutes apiece, they lack movement and dynamism. The music is not strong enough to carry the lyrics.

As such, it's only when he puts aside the guitar that the audience starts to wake up and listen to this man who, to paraphrase, sits "like a man in a Neil Young song."

It's a similar state of affairs with Hem, but, unfortunately, the Brooklyn eight-piece don't even offer a sideline in comedy.

When front-woman Sally Ellyson claims that their music "might make you cry," you only half wonder whether she's taking the weeping coming from the audience as a compliment.

Their Americana is so well polished and her voice so blandly refined that you can only weep that Lambchop's blueprint has been reduced to something this lifeless.

This is all the more shameful given that the assembled throng looks so promising, boasting an array of pedal steels, electric pianos and glockenspiels.

That they can reduce this to Easy One, an easy listening version of KD Lang's country phase and Pacific Street, which could become Joni Mitchell with a little more effort, is an achievement of sorts.

But, in taking aural wallpaper to new heights, it may be advisable to simply skip Hem records and head straight to Homebase to buy a roll of magnolia flock instead.

SUSAN DARLINGTON