Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * * *

Some acts just exude a sense of calm proportion to the daily grind, to the stuttering headache caused by the constant bombardment of noise that comes out of every office block, tin pan alley and thoroughfare. The insanity that a shrill voice at the end of a telephone or the damaging bluster of those who see the price in everything but for the life of them cannot see the value of a moment of gentleness that is worth more than whatever they earn over the course of a day.

For Rob Jones and Rob White, that calm perspective of their music overshadows the bully in the corner, it gives relief to the hurt and places an arm around those in need of a safety net…they are also more than able to deliver a quick swift kick to regions tethered, to squeeze the metaphorical life out of the deserving but at all times with a softly spoken approach, the quiet anger of the patient man personified.

Their 2010 album, Thirty, exemplifies the serene feel that they offer the public but also there is more than the touch of the velvet glove approach, the CD doesn’t just hide the dualist’s iron fist, it dares the listener to unravel the tightly bound garment and see for themselves what should be seen. The beauty of the harmony in which Simon and Garfunkel would be proud but with generous sprinkle of Merseyside realism, the effect of the combination is just something to behold and live in its moment.

The two men’s overriding ability to gently tango with the emotions of the listener on Thirty is a huge testament to desire, to the feeling that somewhere, no matter what, life has a meaning, there are songs to be song and discussions to be had. The conversations can be had with the tenderness of a new born deer being urged to walk on its own accord or they can be caustic, message ridden and metaphor placed, but they will happen.

There are a multitude of songs on the album that just add a certain calmness, the steadying of calamity to the proceedings that the stereo system weeps with the feeling of abandonment when the CD is removed. Tracks such as Won’t You Remember My Name, I Hope You Know What You’re Doing, What She Thinks About, Monday To Saturday and The French Girl in the Hall give the stereo and the listener the choice whether they stoically remain resolute or give in to the realism on offer, whatever the final outcome, the music on offer on Thirty is not to be underestimated nor misjudged, it should be valued and shared completely.

Ian D. Hall