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“Rip it up and start again,” once sang Collins on some classic Orange Juice song you might have heard. Has the rulebook escaped unscathed? From the breezy but sharp post-punk freshness of his Orange Juice days and the sheer class of much of his solo catalogue, Edwyn Collins’ grace and influence should never be underestimated. With a legacy such as his comes a certainly stately prowess. But does indie’s lovely uncle still have something to say? What can he have left to prove?
Straight from the rolling beat and swinging horns that back the timeless pop of opener ‘Dilemma’, you realise that it doesn’t really matter – the joy that Collins’ still finds in, and brings to, music is near palpable.
While the songs here are quite bold in their imperial setting, there’s nothing ground- breaking or particularly exciting going on here. It’s a bit Radio 2 and a little safe, but lovely all the same, as Collins’ uses a an eclectic range of sounds and textures from the more colourful corners of music’s past to create a classic, greatest hits sheen to the record.
There’s a smattering of soul on ‘Baby Jean’, ‘Carry On’ carries a cute Motown stomp before ’31 Years’ and ‘Down The Line’ swoons with an air of Wildwood-era Weller and ‘It’s A Reason’ carries a subtle Scott Walker croon.
There’s a dark little rocker in ‘In The Now’, but beyond that the album and the pensive reflections on growing old gracefully on ‘Understated’ are another highlight, but beyond that the album carries the milder and comforting thrills that give the record its name.
Before we end, a friend once shared with me that Edwyn Collins sounded like Stewie Griffin off of Family Guy. Ever since then, I’ve struggled to enjoy his music without imagining him plotting an evil scheme from a high chair. What a delightful image. Malevolent babies aside, you must always remember that the impact of Collins’ quirky charm has had on music (however great) is always seemingly understated. How fitting. Find it in spades here.
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