Carl Sandburg Visits Me In A Dream

I’m not really sure what to do with Fink. Is he writing folk music or some peculiarly joyful derivation of it? Is he writing about why division is futile or why unity is fruitful? Is he accessible or almost-frustratingly inconsistent? While these questions might hint at some musical identity crisis or some marketing failure–I’m not really sure. So all I can tell you is what I think of the music off of Fink’s Sort of Revolution and that’s it.

I know I like “If I Had A Million”, and no, it isn’t some strange cover version of the BNL’s song. The bright guitar illuminates this entire track, giving it a sense of warmth underneath Fink’s lush vocals. I might like “Maker” more if there was a little more to it. The echoing icy backbeat starts out the song well enough, and the layering of Fink’s vocals provides ample dissonance and resolution for my enjoyment. But it feels too improvisatory, as though you the listener are supposed to fill in the blanks (there’s an idea, Beck). I think I like “Sort of Revolution” and then I think I don’t like it (does that help?). It just seems too circumloquatious: “Let me know when we get there/if we get there.” I don’t love “Move on Me” because it sounds like a cheap imitation of Air. I’m mighty sure I love “Walking in the Sun”–it’s jubilant soulful disposition makes it one of the major highlights on this album.

Just get the dang album and see for yourself! Sort of Revolution.

Listen to “Walking in the Sun”

Listen to “If I Had a Million“

Hailing from Brighton, England, Fin Greenall (aka Fink) writes delicate electro-folk tunes for a post-Postal Service world. His music is generally more subdued, and sounds more electronic in the sense that there are good deal of downtempo beats and rhythms here. But both the instruments and the vocals seem more fitting for some soundtrack on a classic Americana desert plain, with two gunslingers caught in a moment with their weapons drawn. Hold that moment, and observe the various tensions in Fink’s sophomore release Distance and Time. In some ways, the album seems distant and foreign, and then at other times intimate and person. His acoustic sparse, singer-songwriter style has the profound effect of both grabbing you closer (”Under the Same Stars”) while also making you feel eerily isolated (”Blueberry Pancakes”).

I don’t exactly know what to make of this album. It is very much one of those albums that you must want to enjoy, in order to enjoy it. It’s not a matter of forcing, but even the most melodic of the songs (”Trouble’s What You’re In”) has a rather dreary message tagged along with it. I don’t find Fink’s music to be depressing or morose, but it certainly tries it’s hardest to be so. I’d much rather he used his creative efforts to put forth something perhaps a little more playful like on his Pretty Little Thing debut.

Go and get a copy of Distance and Time.

Listen to “Trouble’s What You’re In” (4.7/5)

Listen to “Get Your Share” (4.6/5)