Passing Stranger

English midlands-based folk-rock songwriter Scott Matthews has earned Nick Drake comparisons, and even shares a record label with the deceased troubadour. There are similarities, for sure, but they differ in certain key areas – quality being the most obvious one, though there is more to it than that.
Matthews’ guitar-playing, though it tries to replicate Drake’s, lacks that gentle, effortless roll of his hero’s. The easy flow of Drake’s best work is replaced with something a little more leaden and heavy-handed – bombastic, even, at times. There is also an unwelcome hint of Eddie Vedder in the vocals, a far cry from the beautifully depressed whisper of Matthews’ principal influence.
Jeff Buckley and Van Morrison are also key reference points on Passing Stranger; a pretty predictable set of inspirations, but Matthew’s at least tries to make a mark in his own right. He throws in a number of short, low-key instrumentals between “proper” songs – normally a device I enjoy quite a lot, but not here; these snippets are actually rather grating, all slapdash guitar strums and irritatingly random tabla meanders.
The album might have been a total washout but for an impressive second-half rally, located mainly within the record’s third quarter. A series of nicely understated ballads comes to the rescue: ‘Prayers’ is queasily beautiful and enjoyably uncluttered; ‘City Headache’ is a relaxed; dreamy shuffle, while ‘Elusive’ has a pleasing ethereal quality.
The pretty, unobtrusive ‘White Feathered Medicine’ would have been a strong note to go out on, but instead Matthews finishes on a low. ‘Little Mantabla Jam Part 2’ is another bafflingly unnecessary acoustic doodle, while ‘Bruno Finale’ is a quite grating spoken-word closer, delivered in a peculiar (and presumably affected) French accent. Some may hail this as a flawed masterpiece, but the peaks on Passing Stranger are not impressive enough to atone for some infuriatingly deep troughs.