Fyfe Dangerfield – Fly Yellow Moon

Those who fell jarringly in love with The Guillemots beguiling debut record will know that Fyfe Dangerfield can be a frustrating soul. His tendency to swing between two poles, one manic, one sedate, is also imitated by an infuriating inability to retain consistency across a record. Through the Windowpane was 70% one of the freshest, most astonishing records of the last decade, and 30% the sort of dreary sludge that could lull a highly-caffeinated Jack Russell Terrier into a sound sleep. 

The question then becomes, can Dangerfield deliver a record outside the embrace of his band-mates that finally weds that intoxicating sense of invention to a more targeted focus? The answer is no, but then again, he hasn’t really tried. A certain sort of consistency has been attained – but without the presence of his usual co-conspirators, it’s hard to shake the feeling that this is merely because the best moments don’t quite shine as brightly as they do when they bristle with the reckless abandon of group composition. There are wonderful moments, of course. Opener 'When You Walk In The Room' leaps out of the traps with an exuberance that augurs well, all delirious shrieks and trundling arrangement, while 'Barricades' shows that Dangerfield can do pared down with the best of them. Standout track goes to the almost offensively infectious 'She Needs Me.' The sort of joyous, string-drenched affair that makes McAlmont and Butler’s 'Yes' look positively depressing, the repeated line “I am yours/you can do what you like with me” will have listeners grinning like maniacs on public transport up and down the land. 

It’s not that anything on the remainder of the record is particularly odious; fans will find much to enjoy in the simple arrangements and affable hooks.  But that’s just it. Part of the delight of The Guillemots is the feeling that although you may not like what comes next, you sure as hell won’t be able to predict it. Irritating as it may be, at least the inconsistency mentioned above is born out of a suspicion that Dangerfield and co. might just have a genuine masterpiece in them. A record made while he was in a relationship, Dangerfield has made a very decent stab at a David Gray record, but it’s hard to shake the feeling that there’s something more satisfying than these simple, homely pleasures. It kind of felt more exciting when his records represented a fiery, Latin temperament. Sure, the clothes might have been tossed off the balcony occasionally – but at least there was passion.