Yahoo! Music Review

Released on 05/03/07
Label: Mercury

He's nothing if not ambitious. Oxford graduate - and former library worker - Ben Hudson has claimed that he wanted his debut album to sound "like Dr Dre producing Bowie." No harm in aiming high, but "A Tale Of Two Cities" actually recalls Sting as produced by a more refined Mike Skinner. Intriguing, possibly, but it does rather leave the bling factor wanting.

Hudson apparently experienced a hip hop epiphany after reading Patrick Neate's "Where You're At" and so embarked on a beats-making voyage of discovery which led to his working with Dizzee Rascal and Sway. His demonstrable love of soul, reggae and hip hop is matched by his dedication to The Song, with a fondness in particular for Prefab Sprout and The Blue Nile.

Hudson is unapologetic about his love of books (he read English at university) and general worship of the word, as any songwriter or rhymesayer should be, and is perfectly capable of pulling off the odd affecting couplet and subtly evocative image. Which makes it all the more frustrating that so much of "A Tale Of Two Cities" is gauche, fluffy and singularly lacking in the dramatic punch needed to bring its songs to life.

The fault lies partly in the fact that Hudson's voice is similar to that of one Gordon Sumner (it falls on the slight side of expressive), but mainly, it's because Hudson and his four Library assistants dabble, rather than dig deep, sound confused where they're going for fusion (the blues-soul lite and blanched reggae of "2x2" and "Bread And Roses" respectively), rudimentary and simplistic when their aim is "realness" and simplicity ("One Specific Thing").

Hudson's vignettes, too, can seem trivial and banal rather than touchingly quotidian. "Ask The DJ", in particular, requires a theatrical verve and energetic swish to enliven it - there's limited narrative mileage in pondering a DJ's choice of tune, after all. Overall, "A Tale Of Two Cities" lacks both the rootsy tuffness that might anchor it and the instrumental sophistication that would make it soar.

However, it's also far from a disaster: Joy Joseph's steel pan work is an inspired touch; Hudson mixes and matches genres in a manner that pays refreshingly little heed to the received "wisdom" about educated white boys messing with beats; and "Everything Happens To Me" and closer "Upon The Heath" are sweetly understated gems, but more meat and muscle are required. Hudson's ideas could yet impress, but they need a sweaty work-out first.

    by Sharon O'Connell