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Slick production values surround a voice that breaks often enough on the high notes to convince you that Phil Campbell has seen enough of life to have something worth singing about. Just.
If you can judge a book by its cover, you can judge a musician by the venues he's played. Campbell, in other words, sounds pretty much as you'd expect for someone who's recently been plucking the strings in West London's famous Troubadour Club - a pleasant, AOR acoustic tunesmith aimed firmly at a crowd who are too cool for James Blunt but still want sunblushed tomatoes on focaccia bread for their mid-gig snack.
Is it all a bit too safe? Probably. He's Dylan-lite, for sure, with more in common with Damien Rice than Rufus Wainright, to compare him to the other musicians producer Andy Bradfield has worked with recently, but overall there are far worse things in the world to listen to, so at least for this time, we'll let him off.
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