Belle

Paul Tiernan was one of the first Irish singer-songsmiths who pioneered the go-it-alone philosophy, but his home profile has since been eclipsed by the likes of Casey, Kitt, Mundy, Hayes, Turner, Roesy, McEvoy and others who have achieved a modicum of mainstream success.
Taken individually, the dozen songs on Belle, his fourth album, are finely-crafted works, but the tempos are so invariably slow and the moods so persistently melancholy that it all adds up to a bit of a downer when taken as a complete experience.
Tracks such as ‘Pretend’ hint at the lovelorness of Nick Drake, but without Drake’s depth. ‘Stones’ is potent and wistful, with added accordion and a catchy chorus to alleviate the downbeat mood.
The production and performances, not least Tiernan’s poignant guitar-playing and his attractive voice, are all fine and dandy, but you have to wait until track 11 for things to get a bit jiggy, and even that turns out to be the short, crisp instrumental ‘Leaving Boleagh’. Even masters of morbidity like Leonard Cohen and Nick Cave toss off a joke every now and then, but Belle at times sounds unsettlingly like a suicide note set to music.