From Morrissey to Tindersticks, introspection and self-analysis have frequently formed the basis of successful songwriting, but for every Mozza there are a hundred navel-gazers who can’t understand why the world at large doesn’t find their every obsession required listening. Thankfully, Crayonsmith’s Ciarán Smith resides in the former camp and Milk Teeth is a refreshingly honest look at the tribulations of becoming an adult, sometimes squirmingly so.
Eschewing the electronica of his first two solo releases, Smith has roped in former Waiting Room sticksmith Wayne Dunlea and bassist Richie O’Reilly from Guilty Optics, who between them have created a bruised, beautiful album. Indeed, it could be argued, there are two sides to Crayonsmith: one is an upbeat, poppy affair, with chiming guitars, toe-tapping melodies and singalong choruses (‘Laugh It Off’, ‘Sideways’) and the other a darker, more melancholy beast (‘Chrysalis’, ‘White Dwarf’). The fruits of the latter might take longer to work their subtle charms on you, but the pay-off is probably greater. It took a good dozen listens before ‘Claude Road’ made sense, morphing from indie shoegazing to Sigur Ros-like swells, over the course of its five and a half minutes.
Pick of the bunch, the superb ‘Sideways’, has the chirpiest of melodies, augmented by a resounding guitar motif that bounces around your head with wilful abandon, as Smith narrates a lifetime’s litany of love disasters. Other highlights include the chiming melancholy of ‘The Fix’, the weird, wonderful Wurlitzer-like middle-eight to the trippy ‘Chrysalis’, the exploding sunbursts of ‘Laugh It Off’ couching the darker subject matter underneath, and the heartrendingly candid ‘Let’s Split Up’: “It’s a long, long day, the day you leave, but I’ve got to think of me”.
Musically they sometimes come across like a rockier Belle & Sebastian, and lyrically, Smith has found his voice. Crayonsmith have painfully, achingly, but majestically come of age.

Key Track: 'Sideways'