I personally don’t feel inclined to give Piano Magic a bad review, yet I am compelled to point out that their new album has flaws that far outweigh anything positive I could possibly say about their latest long player.
For all of it’s baroque tones and a smattering of dark electronica, the band’s 11th album suffers greatly through a bizarre approach to writing and recording that sounds almost medieval, verging on a ridiculous ‘hey nonny-nonny’ cliché that would only be fit for Monty Python and the Holy Grail and mead fuelled battle recreationists.
And although there are a fair number of flashes of genius, these fail to shine through thoroughly, instead the sinister new-wave tones that could have raised the profile of this release become muddled amongst everything else going on, or in some cases suffer because not enough is going on.
I’ve struggled with my own opinion of this album, wishing I could like it, willing myself to find the positives, and despite this, or possibly because of it, I think I have discovered the true problem.
Life Has Not Finished With Me Yet is just not sufficiently interesting enough.
Each and every silver lining is overshadowed by it’s respective cloud, to the point that the whole thing becomes unappealing to listen to, the squandered chances becoming the only thing I can hear.
And I know that I will never want to listen to it again.
.