In practice, this new approach results in an eschewal of minor-key mopeyness and an embracing of Tin Pan Alley-style songwriting, lush string arrangements and unabashed sentimentality. Yet the tracks that most fully embrace this new, old-fashioned approach are the least interesting. This isn’t necessarily attributable to the tunes – which are generally sturdy – or the arrangements – which are meticulous throughout – but with Black’s voice and the words he sings.
For Black is manifestly not a ‘Singer’ with a capital ‘S’: his voice recalls that of Cherry Ghost’s Simon Aldred with a more limited range. Across The Boombox Ballads, he declares love of the puppyish variety: “Let’s get landlocked girl / ‘Cause who needs the beach when I’m with you?” (You Are Gentle); “Baby, let’s stay up all night until we’re crazy and sleep-deprived” (Sometimes); “I have a girl that I do love and for me that is enough” (Two Lucky Magpies).
But Black runs into trouble when he hits upon a metaphor and proceeds to hammer it into the ground. The nadir arrives on Tonight You Are A Tiger, whose every verse introduces a metaphor of increasing tweeness. First, the subject is a tiger (“bite me in the belly, pierce my skin and dive right in / and roll me round your mouth and tongue till you’ve tasted everything”), then a future museum exhibit (“let me be your mammoth and your palaeontologist / cause I was born to keep you warm on those cold archaeological digs”) and, finally, the boombox of the album’s title: “You are my boombox, the JVCOCM19 / and all I wanna be is your shoulder and carry you up and down the street”. Neil Hannon can pull off this kind of whimsy; Black cannot.
The Boombox Ballads is at its best when Black’s new “Singer” tendencies are mixed with weirdness. You Got Me Time Keeping – the catchiest thing here – begins like a Northern Soul stomper before taking an odd detour through hallucinogenic psychedelia. Walking In The Rain initially rivals Simon & Garfunkel’s The 59th Street Bridge Song for cutesiness (“look, there goes Billy the seal from the lido up the road!”) before the arrival of a disquieting, off-key middle eight in which Black describes himself as “a lovely little man / I look good on paper” in a quivering falsetto.
The album is far from a lost cause. Sometimes, Two Lucky Magpies, Over And Out and the Bibio-esque titular instrumental are all lovely. But The Boombox Ballads annoys almost as much as it entertains.