Thomas Dybdahl - Songs

It’s about time Europe at large woke up to Norwegian singer-songwriter Thomas Dybdahl and appreciated what it’s missing. You can’t deny he’s given us enough chances. A 10-year solo career – after a stint with Quadraphonics – has seen five studio albums, a couple of awards and increasingly intense attempts at wider recognition, culminating in this, not even the first of his “story so far” packages to reach these shores. There was an earlier self-titled effort in 2009 that pulled together the best of his 21st century output to make a cohesive unit, but, for shame, it didn’t get past some warm reviews. So he’s trying again. ‘Songs’ is strikingly similar to its predecessor, just jiggled about and adorned with a couple of newer tracks, but look – it’s not like you paid any attention last time, is it?

Never too late, though. Fling your doors open to Dybdahl now and you’ll discover a man who’s not too burdened by some daunting Nick Drake comparisons, but possibly sails closer to Tim Buckley. An engaging, witty presence on stage, on record Dybdahl is a soul-stirring romantic, manly but not too gruff to be lovelorn. His collected songs betray little progression – indeed, even shoved together, ‘A Love Story’ and ‘Cecilia’ feel all of a piece, the former a fitting prelude to the latter – yet there’s no sense of disadvantage. Dybdahl has found a niche, a consistently attractive blend of folk, blue-eyed soul and classic (read “70s”) songmanship that suits him, and he’s going nowhere.

In the haze of gently plucked guitar, swooning strings and skittering beats there are songs that dig their hooks in. The pattering swing of ‘B A Part’ is like The Magic Numbers turned down low, not cloying but catchy like a slip fielder. ‘All’s Not Lost’ has the sort of surging chorus Elbow could flatten a festival field with, drenched in sweet sorrow, uplifting whether it likes it or not. ‘From Grace’ echoes Tim’s son Jeff not just in name but also in Dybdahl’s battered choirboy croon and the way the melody floats above the panic of itchy drums. “It’s here that I give you all my love,” Dybdahl promises over slide guitar. He’s happy to be open. Over the misleadingly bright country and western shuffle of ‘Cecilia’, he declares, “Here I am/Flesh and bone”. It’s the starkest giving over of yourself, unclothed, unmannered.

All this and there’s still time to barrel over rolling piano on ‘Pale Green Eyes’ and reserve the final minute of ‘Something Real’ for some crazy hepcat jazz improv. Surprises, you see, however mild. What stands out though is Dybdahl’s sincerity and, more essentially, easy dexterity with a melody. ‘Songs’ is a simple enough proposition - you’d be wise to accept it.