It’s easy to call (C’mon) Do The Beach Thing a “slow burnerâ€, or a “growerâ€, or any of those throwaway remarks used to describe an album that doesn’ quite capture you on first listen. Or the second. But these don’ really suffice because The Woods Themselves suffer on their sophomore record from a diffidence that will inevitably find their music subsumed into life’ milieu.
On the second time around for this Sydney outfit, they opt for a selection of mid-tempo country-inflected tunes built around songwriter Davey Cotsios’ acoustic guitar and withdrawn voice that’s one part vulnerable and two parts reticent. It’s difficult not to call these songs beautiful, but the lack of solid song structures and hooks means they don’ have the necessary elements to be memorable. Even as I’m listening to this album for the third time while I’m writing this, I’m finding it hard to recall any of the songs. (C’Mon) Do The Beach Thing becomes a vast ocean of music, and capturing one of the songs in your mind is akin to finding the same drop of water twice.
The Woods Themselves offer an intimate listen; one that tries to be so inoffensive it rubs itself out. That’s a shame because there’ audible talent on show here. “Buy Some Time’ opens the album with a number that explores dynamics and mood with an ethereal melody constructed with an organ and doleful trumpet, eventually building into a gritty guitar resolution. The muddy thud of the electronic drums on “Groovewind’ might be incongruous with Cotsios’ thin voice but it offers a refreshingly different tone. The album’ closer, “Dig The Water’, is its highlight, yoking the country twang of slide guitar with a saloon bar piano line and the sounds of a darting laser. It’s an all-too fleeting highlight on a record that fails to leave a lasting impression.
Dom Alessio
