Back when Adam Franklin was blowing cool about cars and guns as Swervedriver's head honcho, his drowsy drawl was the perfect complement to the group's blistering effects-pedal attack. His work under the Toshack Highway moniker was certainly less spirited than what he's best known for, but he's always had a sleepy way about him. It's only here on his first official solo album where Franklin actually sounds tired and worn-out, both in a good and bad way. While Bolts of Melody deftly illustrates that his way with a tune hasn't diminished in the slightest, his attempts to split the difference between rocking and reclining leaves the album worse for wear.
Bolts of Melody starts off with a relative bang, and while "Seize the Day" says what it needs to say in just over two minutes, it comes off as a half-hearted nod to his previous days. The same goes for the oddly muted "Shining Somewhere". "Syd's Eyes" is presumably meant to pay homage to Syd Barrett, but it sounds more like a watered-down pastiche of Franklin's swinging 1960s touchstones (the "Space Oddity" homage "Walking in Heaven's Foothills" is much more flattering.) The other nominal "rock" track on Bolts, "Birdsong", sounds like Franklin getting in touch with his inner Eric Clapton. And I'm talking about the arena-rockin' Eric Clapton that epitomized the worst excesses of the 80s. That the track also appears in a stripped-down acoustic version does the album no favors.
Aside from that misstep, the album's less energetic tracks are what save this record. Gentle psychedelic songs like "Sundown" and "Morning Rain" might find Franklin gazing more at his navel than his shoes, but he sounds much more comfortable and confident taking it easy. Only the appropriately titled instrumental "Theme from LSD" tops the latter track's hypnotic groove, though both feature stellar wah-wah pedal work that would make Jimi Hendrix smile. And while the album starts off on the wrong foot, it ends on a strong note. One would think a track called "Ramonesland" would be an upbeat album closer. Instead, it's a dreamy seven-minute tour that encapsulates everything good about this album. There's a line midway through the track about a girl playing the Red House Painters, where Franklin says they sound "fucking depressing." It might be a toss-away zinger at that sort of introspection (which Franklin willfully indulges in throughout this album), but it comes off as knowing irony: The most depressing tracks on Bolts of Melody are those that superficially sound the least depressing.
