David Vandervelde - 'Waiting For The Sunrise' (Secretly Canadian) Released 22/09/08

Remember that Sun Studios scene in Johnny Cash biopic ‘Walk the Line’? In it, the chap playing Sun supremo Sam Phillips, having just dissed the young man in black’s tepid gospel, taunts him to deliver the one song he’d churn out if he had moments to live, leading the fictional Cash to produce a defiant take on his freshly penned signature tune ‘Folsom Prison Blues’.

It’s not hard to imagine David Vandervelde, having similarly struggled to impress prospective label bosses with the tune portfolio that makes up ‘Waiting for the Sunrise’, airing ‘I Will Be Fine’ as a last resort, inspiring the hardened record biz honchos to dash for their cheque books as soon as they’ve managed to collect their jaws off the floor. For the album opener’s an absolute peach, a yearning, heart-warming celebration of easygoing 70’s California vibes; a warmly pulsating gem that somehow manages to hop over the many pitfalls of such blatant retroisms by tipping its hat to numerous US MOR fiends of yesteryear but somehow ending up hovering several stories above standard soft-focus limo-rock pastiches.

Alas, it also towers head, shoulders and majority of torso above the rest of the platter. Not that the bulk of ‘Waiting for the Sunrise’ consists of total bile, far from it. But the inoffensive likes of ‘California Breeze’ – efficient, if unspectacularly workmanlike power-pop – and the casual chug of ‘Someone Like You’ make it hard to ignore the almost comically clichéd lyrics, full of the worried minds and little girls that have been amongst us ever since the least creative of 70’s cocaine cowboys required some cheesy couplets to hang their sugar-sweet harmonies on. Then there’s the unavoidable fact that a number of combos – Midlake and Fleet Foxes to the fore – have recently carved works of near-magical resonance from the very same ingredients, whereas ‘Waiting for the Sunrise’ is at times a bit too content to churn out heartfelt but unchallenging carbon copy homages to the golden era of navel-gazing singer-songwriters.

Things get a whole bunch more interesting when Vandervelde snap out of the easygoing torpor and crank up the proceedings. ‘Hit The Road’ is a razor-sharp specimen of fine-tuned sludge-blues, even if the mean, mistreatin’ and cheatin’ travelin’ man themes got weary decades ago. The positively sizzling ‘Lyin’ in Bed’ ups the jam band ante further with electrifying results, even if the fuzzed-out fretboard fireworks and slow-motion scruff-funk provide an almost exact replica of the favoured sonic settings of mid-70’s Neil Young. But hey, if you’re going to rip someone off, might as well opt for the master, right? Add to this the rousing piano-gospel of the title track, and you’ve an authentic time machine trip that oozes enough charm to hop over most of the glaring, pastiche-shaped pitfalls.