When you're reviewing music, you tend to give new arrivals a first listen while you're doing something else. Checking over a previous review, for example, or restructuring a book introduction; washing up or stroking the cat. And every so often, you realise that while you were doing this, you completely missed bothering to take any mental notes about what the song you were meant to be listening to actually sounded like.
This isn't all that uncommon but rarely does it happen twice, and even less often does it happen on a third listen, by which time you're actively trying to listen to the damn thing so that you can think of something to write about it. Sadly, Palace Fires are that forgettable. Their packaging is pleasant – doing what it says on the tin and resembling a burnt bit of opulent wallpaper and, actually, the B-side's not too bad, sort of folky and a little bit Americanaish, like acoustic Jack White or the Handsome Family if they were earnest rather than ironic, even though Palace Fires are from West London.
It's just that the minute Nothing Comes Close finishes, you won't have the slightest idea what you were just listening to. I'd like to tell you whether or not it was any good but I'm afraid that I really can't remember.
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