Possibly the year's most apathetically awaited album, this short collection from the one-time guitarist with the now overlooked Longpigs (and Pulp too, at some point in their long history) is an absolute belter, quite out of nowhere.
Seven beautiful tunes (one's an instrumental) instantly take you back to an age of greater innocence and, let's face it, sordidness, as Hawley unexpectedly turns out to be the missing link between the great Roy Orbison and the not so great (so far) twenty-first century.
The opener, the languid, almost resigned 'Coming Home', is like Coldplay for adults, sung by someone who's lived, and not only through other people's records, 'Bang To Rights' is as sweet as its title is slovenly, and 'Naked In Pitsmoor' (after Hawley's home suburb in Sheffield) is simply beautiful and cynical all at once.
Anyone who's ever been seduced by the stark beauty of Mazzy Star or Cowboy Junkies will find Hawley's style instantly recognisable, yet his own croon (and it is his own- only once does he veer towards Neil Hannon territory) puts this out on its own. At least until someone at a British television company picks up The Chris Isaak Show (currently showing on US telly, and featuring the bequiffed veteran as himself in a touching pseudo-docusoap homage to Larry Sanders), then Hawley is unchallenged as the best current purveyor of sarcasm and sensitivity. Give him a telly show now. Recommended.
