Newton Faulkner - Hand Built By Robots

It’s smug, over-produced (to the point where not a single high hat is ever out of place - DIY punk this is most certainly not) and about as challenging as a copy of OK Magazine.

With a title like this, it’s easy to anticipate a Kraftwerk-esque electro masterpiece, all minimal bleeps and boings with a catchy dancefloor beat, when in fact all we get is this acoustic mung-bean-eating radio-friendly slush. Mr Faulkner should surely be brought against the Trades Descriptions Act or something.

However, if you like your oh-so-sensitive male singer/songwriter types along the lines of you-know-who, then you’ll probably never stop listening to ‘Hand Built By Robots’.

It’s smug, over-produced (to the point where not a single high hat is ever out of place - DIY punk this is most certainly not) and as about as challenging as a copy of OK Magazine. Dross, dross and then more dross for good measure. Newton can certainly write songs, but the kind of stuff that washes over you immediately, never to be remembered again as long as you keep breathing in and out. Song after similar-sounding song plod along to little effect - you can almost smell the patchouli oil on ‘Sitar-y Thing’, and the Beatles-ish chord progressions and harmonies of ‘Straight Towards The Sun’ are all very pretty, but have as much substance as candy floss. He has a passable stab at Massive Attack’s ‘Teardrop’ - instead of the chilling, ice-cool original, Newton brings some campfire-warm vocals in to the mix but it’s pretty pointless when compared with the infinitely superior original.

Your Mum or Aunty will love it for Christmas - just make sure you don’t mistakenly buy it for your metal-loving teenage brother. He’ll most likely never speak to you again.