Other People's Problems

The Upper Room operate on the frayed edges of that cheery Horlicks-pop hegemony ruled by Coldplay and other simpering peers. Their soporific songs are swaddled in dreamy soundwaves colliding with bittersweet lyrics.
Other People’s Problems bathes the listener in anodyne, no-more-tears formula wishy-washyness. The problem lies in balancing this Radox-rock with enough vitality to not make it veer towards the insipid. The Upper Room stay on the right side, but only just.
The album opens with the faintly euphoric ‘All Over This Town’. More jangly-pop follows, with ‘Black And White’ another instantaneous three minute blast of cheery pop bliss. One track drifts seamlessly into the next, a catchy and frothy pile-up of instantly alluring but ultimately featherweight ditties.
Frontman and driving force Alex Miller considers himself heir to the throne of miserabilist icons Morrissey and Ian Curtis, but rarely does he reach such heights. The lyrical bite of ‘Leave Me Alone’ – its eerie tale of obsession including the couplet “Please stop calling me at home/Though I think you’re lovely, baby” – is an exception. Elsewhere his solipsistic quibbles are drowned by a sea of uplifting chords and mellifluous keys.
The Upper Room seem torn between towing a commercial line and offering up something of real substance. There are moments of real grandeur (‘Girl’) and soothing elegance (‘It Began On Radio’), but this virginal whiter-than-white sheen makes you pine for some chiaroscuro, some contrast, something less manicured.