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As we all know, there’s many reasons to despise David Gray. Look around at the current plethora of supposed heart-on-the-sleeve banality that manifests itself in the form of the James Blunts and Damien Rices of this world and it’s easy to identify Gray as their harbinger. The fact that his ‘White Ladder’ album is the second biggest selling album of the decade only seems to confirm this nation’s taste for solid, unremarkable songwriting with a hint of cod passion remains a banker.
Despite this it’s hard to hate with Gray with the force we reserve for Swedish football managers. Perhaps it’s the British love of the underdog or the fact that Gray struggled for his art (this is his seventh album) or maybe it’s simply the bruised persona he has developed appeals to us in a way that the ego-centric arrogance of proper rock stars no longer seems to. Maybe it’s even got to do with his way around a tune. Millions will attest to the beauty of a ‘Babylon’ or a ‘Sail Away’ and it’s to these people Gray is playing and it’s these people who won’t be disappointed by ‘Life In Slow Motion’.
Opener ‘Alibi’ sets the trend for the album – a moving string sequence is interrupted by Gray’s usual uninspiring strumming and the song proceeds to run the gamut of musical emotions from sad to a bit sadder. What is noticeable is the kitchen sink production from Madonna and U2 collaborator Marius De Vries. These are the circles Gray is obviously now mixing in and one can’t help think some of the charmingly off kilter sparseness of his previous work is being substituted for continued American success. Still these trivialities will probably not concern the thirtysomethings as they instead revel in the singalong charm of the Waterboysesque ‘The One I Love’ or the swaying stadium balladry of ‘Disappearing World’. After all ’hate’ is a strong word and in the big scheme of things there’s more deserving recipients than an ageing Welsh bloke with a dull name.
