Royseven
A review of their album 'The Art of Insincerity'
Review
Snapshot:
Previously of Jove fame, Royseven managed to reach no. 6 in the charts with the
single and opening album track Older. This is unsurprising: as essentially strong
as the songs on this album are, nearly all their merit is buried under an overbearing
production style which leaves them sounding like a hundred other bands. Overall
a decent listen.
The Cluas Verdict: 6.9 out of 10.
Full Review:
A band who have reached not inconsiderable heights in the heady orbits of
the Irish music world, Royseven have a lot to give. And give they do - their lyrics
drip with the usual emotion of major-signed indie, while their Paul Walsh pours
everything he has into making them sound like they do.
The album opens with top-10 success, Older, a song that starts with a soaring vocal
line over gentle acoustic but soon has you writhing around the floor in agony after
a painful band kick-in at the chorus. With an accomplished and very able songwriter
and some really impressive but buried keyboard, Royseven are obviously capable of
so much more than such a hackneyed and cheap trick. However, the album gets increasingly
better with every track, except for a small pitfall in the shape of fifth track
Aberdeen.
Although second track Happy Ever Afters looks to be the follow-up single, one of
the most outstanding is in fact Crash, in which Walsh lends an unexpected air of
improvisation over strict and exact chordal movement, not unlike Muse's infamous
Matt Bellamy freestyling over their characteristic heavy
bass but without the range. 'Strict' and 'exact' are in fact words you could attach
to most of the album: there is a definite emphasis on unity as a band and exactitude
in performance throughout the album.
Textures which can be described as little other than rich and fat war with exposed
nakedness and extreme musical anorexia in a pleasing trip of sensations. The strength
of Walsh's vocals and the strength of the bare essential songwriting fight for the
honour of being the most remarkable aspect of the album. A case in point is the
internal struggle of February, in which immaculately constructed melodies and delicate
piano are counterpointed by rough guitar and doom-laden strings in a successful,
if unintentional, pastiche of classical dramatics. Meanwhile the vocals alternately
roar and soar as the mood dictates with immaculate self-control.
While The Art of Insincerity is unimaginative at best, it nevertheless is a successful
vehicle for showcasing the potential that is so audible from track to track.
