Some music is recorded as an act of pure creation, a reflex of self-expression, a moment of challenging the status quo and discovering innovative, unique, unpredictable ways to present emotion, tone and texture to the oft bewildered public. Within the first five seconds of Aberfeldy’s third album Somewhere to Jump From it becomes quite apparent that this is not that kind of music. Rather this is comfort music, designed to raise your spirits and perhaps get a few shakes out of your girlfriend’s hips as she brews the tea.

Approach Somewhere to Jump From as the musical equivalent of valium and it hits the spot just right, though at 42 minutes of glockenspiel, acoustic guitar, inter-gender harmonies and Wurlitzer keyboards you’re in for a serious dosage of schmaltz. Aberfeldy sit somewhere between Belle and Sebastian’s poppier moments and James Taylor’s every moment with the occasional spoonful of the Scissor Sisters. At one end of the spectrum their repertoire features jumpy little upbeat songs where reclusive girls like ‘Claire’, ‘Lisa Marie’ are implored to get their act together and take a course of action which is never really specified but which will presumably result in positive and constructive improvements to their lives. At the other end of the spectrum are jumpy little upbeat sad songs where singer Riley Briggs bemoans his loneliness with clever lines like “alliteration alone won’t bring you back to me again” and bewildering nonsensical lines like “if I were a joiner… I’d put up a shelf about you”.

So the question is not really whether the album is ‘good’ per se, but rather whether it performs its desired function. With that in mind here are some circumstances in which you will be happy to have Somewhere to Jump From on your iPod:

• You’ve been out on a couple of dates with this girl, and you’ve decided to invite her round for dinner at your place. You know she likes Noah and the Whale and Laura Marling and you need something to make her ask “hey, who are these guys? I like ‘em” over lasagna and Costcutter wine.
• You’ve got a long car journey ahead with some friends who always insist on playing that bloody Snow Patrol album. You need a compromise that isn’t going to challenge their criminally myopic perception of what music can be, but which won’t be soul-crushing to listen to going down the M6.
• You’re having a summer BBQ with a bunch of your friends, half of whom will be bringing their newly acquired infants. You need some music that the tots can have fun dancing to but which doesn’t involve the Itsy Bitsy spider.

The point is, ultimately, that one can’t listen to challenging, experimental, horizon-shifting music all the bloody time, and who would want to? It is valuable to have a few ‘rainy day’ records up your sleeve. It’s very easy to be cynical and patronising and insinuate that music like this is somehow less valuable than whoever the latest critical darlings are; because let’s face it, it probably is! And yet, in the right circumstances, a small dose of Aberfeldy might be just what you need, but keep some Elliott Smith nearby to avoid overdose.