Mother

Kubb are a four-piece band, but the group’s non-singing members are effectively a vehicle for Harry Collier, their Liverpool-born, Tobago-raised bassist and singer-songwriter.
Collier got his break when he was discovered by Faithless’ musical mastermind Rollo, but throughout their debut album, his group fail to reproduce the enjoyably overstated melancholy and endearing silliness of their patron’s band.
Judging by Mother’s tastefully gothic cover, Kubb are aiming to harness a more mysterious, liquid cool. They succeed only occasionally: ‘Alcatraz’ is a nicely world-weary piano ballad, understated and graceful, while the knotty rhythms on ‘I Don’t Mind’ bring a fresh twist to proceedings.
Such welcome musical detours are few and far between, though. More often than not, Kubb bring the listener to somewhere bleak and forgettable. The intention may have been to produce something brooding and confessional, but the end result is more like a darker take on the Blunt/Powter school of songwriting (not a good thing, incidentally). This is depressingly adult music – cleanly produced, professionally delivered, almost entirely devoid of fun.
‘Somebody Else’ unsuccessfully tries to ape Jeff Buckley, its stabs at the operatic embarrassingly undone by Collier’s vocal limitations. Indeed, his singing is weak and lacking in character throughout – by Mother’s conclusion, one may begin to wonder why the other members chose to make him Kubb’s centrepiece. Perhaps it was Rollo’s call?
Either way, he doesn’t have what it takes to save this mediocre batch of songs. The track sequence certainly doesn’t help matters, the album’s latter third being overstuffed with breathy, wintry ballads.
Stick to your day job in Faithless, Rollo. You won’t make it as a talent scout.