Lawrence Arabia - The Sparrow

New Zealand’s Lawrence Arabia (aka James Milne) recalls the halcyon era of Scott Walker and Jacques Brel with ‘The Sparrow’, a brooding, elegant collection of exquisitely arranged baroque pop. This remarkable collection rather quite out of season; whereas as Chant Darling, his previous effort, was reminiscent of a late-summer stroll, his latest release is a winter workout, shrouded in mystery and uncertainty with our hero cocking a skewed look at the world through the cloud of unknowing.

If there is a sense of despair emanating from the jaded lyrics on ‘The Sparrow’, Lawrence has managed to reshape this into something altogether more beautiful. Opener ‘Travelling Shoes’ evokes the weary love-cry of a man permanently on the move, wryly delivered in a half-sung, half-spoken tone, recalling vintage Ray Davies. ‘Bicycle Riding’ is a sparse, piano and vocal driven number which could have come from any era over the last forty years while ‘I had to kneecap my friends just to keep up’ – not just an idle boast – is the refrain from the wonderful ‘Early Kneecappings’, driven by an insistent piano, embellished with swooping and soaring string flourishes. Equally beguiling is ‘The Bisexual’, adorned with seductive brass trills amid an almost sleazy arrangement.

‘The Sparrow’ is a masterful album, aligning lyrical nous with the most lissom and lithe of musical charms. If Lawrence’s previous efforts were a little slight, he more than muscles up to his heroes on his latest release.