Sodastream - Reservations (Fortuna Pop)

This isn't to say that they've not been critical darlings - their debut single was feted by John Peel and Moby, and they've shared bills with Low, Yo La Tengo and the Mountain Goats. They've even been named as one of the most relevant Australian bands since the Go-Betweens.

However, fey guitar picking is bloody difficult to get right, as countless bands from the Kings of Convenience down can testify, and for every Jose-sodding-Gonzalez, there's a band like Sodastream eating pot noodle in a tour bus somewhere wondering what they've got to do to sell a few more records.

Third album Reservations is a step up in terms of production, if not melody, from their previous efforts. Gone is the scratchy, home-recorded warmth of their debut, Looks Like a Russian, replaced by French horns, stand up bass and viola, and Karl Smith's lyrics and vocals seem far more assured than the sometimes barely audible mumblings of the past.

What hasn't changed is the focus of the songs, introspective, with a whole dollop of heartbreak permeating all but the jolliest tracks. Trouble is, this is what stands out - Sodastream haven't really pushed the boundaries of their craft in the past decade, and it's frustrating. It's like picking up the new Mountain Goats album, of which this is a close companion piece, and realising that while it all sounds very nice, he's just doing what he's good at.

It's not that there's anything really wrong with that, and there are some genuinely heart-stopping moments here, Tickets to the Fight has the same brass-horn beauty of Badly Drawn Boy's The Shining, and the title track raises the tempo somewhat with the introduction (gasp) of percussion, a sweet love song begging a girl to "Come back my way now, It's warm here... There's sunbeams and reservations now."

However, it's the lovelorn balladry that is really pushed to the forefront - hell, the protagonist even manages to get himself arrested in the subtle Firelines, after he "came here to listen, but you sent me straight to hell." Life in their sunny hometown of Perth can't be that bad, can it?

Similarly, the violin-led Anti mentions "Rain soaked mornings" and "Days getting too heavy" - is like arch-miserablists The Red House Painters setting up shop down under.

Sodastream often show their capacity to create gorgeous melody, even in the darkest of songs, however, too often they let themselves become overwhelmed by melancholy, stifling an otherwise encouraging album.

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