The Drug Models Love - Slow Hope Parade

Introductions seem appropriate here, as these three night owl composers (who prefer the musical monikers Digitonal, Loner and The Drug Models Love, respectively) all sound as though they could use some good company.

McGinnis, like his nocturnal contemporaries, specialises in the late-night introspection and the particular kind of solitude that follows the show, the party, the bender. Electronic rhythms, pulsing at a resting heart rate, underscore various forms of instrumentation, which is typically bathed in wavering amounts of reverb - all designed to represent the artists' witching hour reflections on their feelings and experiences.

Clearly, much has changed in the 55 years that have passed since Frank Sinatra marvelously shared his late-night laments on the melancholic jazz masterpiece In The Wee Small Hours.

Fortunately, on Slow Hope Parade, McGinnis does well to distinguish himself a bit from the sad rat pack. With it being the responsibility of the artist to communicate and impress upon the listener the mood he or she wishes to evoke - a tall order, especially for those unfamiliar with the exploits being addressed - it is fitting to note that The Drug Models Love pulls off the immersion quite well.

Take Sometimes A City Streetm. It uses sinister sequences of fuzzed guitars and shimmering, synthesized tones to portray the attempts of McGinnis's mates to get him to join them on yet another hedonistic splurge. It's apparently, an oft-pursued diversion, as examples of McGinnis having "used to lie, passed out, under a cloud" are apparently meant to influence his decision.

He'll have none of that this time, though. Although he admits that the streets can bring him peace, he silences the others and orders them to leave. Suggesting success, the tune morphs into a soothing string serenade, with the underlying beat echoing harmlessly underneath - the beckoning, indulgent deeds of the evening have been dismissed nicely.

Acoustic and electric guitars are transformed into lush, celestial lamentations, meant to empathise with, comfort and praise the recently rejected on Palm Satellites. Meanwhile shades of early Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (especially evident given the presentation of McGinnis's voice) are embossed upon the lusciously sly opener Wrapped Up in Honey.

In actuality, the keen representation of desolation ultimately hinders the album. The titular track, which speaks of the bleak future that awaits those quite willing to sacrifice sobriety, meanders endlessly. The result is a droning evocation of feelings that are by no means enjoyable. Even the finer selections on the album tend to, at times, stumble into fits of indirection.

Having been affiliated with artists such as Guided By Voices, it is without doubt that McGinnis has seen plenty of evenings drenched in depressants. It is the believability of the album that shines through McGinnis's work, even if the result is not always pleasing. In spite of its occasional drudgery, the resultant work feels real.

Digitonal and Loner should take note, for the verisimilitude of The Drug Models Love is worthy of being followed. Join the parade, gentlemen, and, damn it, get some sleep.

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