So what we have here is the Scottish indie version of "We're All in the Same Gang", a gathering of artists playing against type for a good cause. Originally an entrant in last year's Scottish Mental Health Arts and Film Festival, First Edition put its roster up to the task of exploring appropriate lyrical themes. Where N.W.A and Ice-T once took on violence, here James Graham (the Twilight Sad), Emma Pollock (the Delgados), Rod Jones (Idlewild), and Scott Hutchison (Frightened Rabbit) come together to promote mental health. Good cause and intentions aside, there's an irony to this bunch working on such a project. The Delgados crafted their masterpiece in large part by living up to its title of Hate, two of Idlewild's biggest hits are "Little Discourage" and "Live in a Hiding Place", while Frightened Rabbit had to go ahead and put a song on their last record called "Not Miserable" because there's no way you'd assume the opposite was the case unless clearly notified.
Fruit Tree Foundation is rounded out by relatively obscure (at least in the U.S.) singer-songwriter types like Alasdair Roberts, Jill O'Sullivan, and Jenny Reeve. And for the most part, the songs here gravitate more toward their low-key and affable folkiness than the highwire bloodletting of the aforementioned. Recorded in a mere five days, these are largely acoustic and almost entirely off-the-cuff, showing their moving parts in an almost aggressive way: A good number of songs here begin with in-studio chatter (somewhat stilted back-and-forth about Glasgow and such), push through verses and choruses over static riffs and chord changes like they're in the progress of being written, and wander off into noodly guitar solos. Undoubtedly, First Edition was a fun project to record and I'm sure a welcome relief for most of those involved to sidestep the heft and expectations associated with their day jobs of supervising emotional powder kegs.
But while there's chemistry, there's little in the way of spark, and First Edition's good intentions add up to a record that doesn't do anything upsetting. And as such, it just feels like a misuse of resources. If nothing else, it's proof enough that these guys are masters of technique and timbre as vocalists, rather than just ones with a weapons-grade emotional arsenal. Graham's richly burnished low register in particular sounds fantastic simmering over acoustic dirges completely free of feedback, yet it's worrisome that without the guitar squall and tortured, punishing lyrics, the Twilight Sad could conceivably veer toward the maudlin tearjerkers of the Swell Season. Likewise, Pollock's contributions to co-ed bashers like "Singing For Strangers" recast her as a chipper cheerleader, a weirdly deferential step down from her wearied but wise counterpoint to Alun Woodward. The Graham feature "Favourite Son" puts lumbering drums right up in the mix like the Twilight Sad, and "I Forgot the Fall" retains Hutchison's unmistakably plaintive melodicism, but both lack a crucial element of catharsis. Within First Edition's context, Jones' "All Gone But One" is the hookiest and most forceful of the power-pop entries. Were it an Idlewild song, and it certainly could be, it would simply be a standard issue cut from one of their later LPs which found them getting less bookish and yet somehow also less edgy.
Maybe my expectations are skewed, but in a situation such as this-- basically, a planned vacation from having to front such lyrically self-flagellating outfits-- you might figure it'd be embraced as on opportunity to take more chances both sonically and thematically. It's a nice enough listen and surely you'll come out of the purchase feeling much better about yourself (which is pretty much never the outcome upon listening to anything these guys have put their name on in the past). But ultimately, even the most rip-roaring of the bunch simply sounding like low-stakes versions of what we've grown accustomed to.
