Badly Drawn Boy – It’s What I’m Thinking

Damon Gough – that’s his name, and personally I’m sick of that ridiculous moniker – has a problem. It’s not that he’s now in his forties and still wearing that silly beanie, instead it’s that his career has gradually been on the decline since he made his name for the Mercury-winning The Hour Of Bewilderbeast in June 2000. Despite beating Doves to the £20,000 prize, Gough has never really moved on and – About A Boy soundtrack aside – has spent most of his career producing increasingly bland acoustic music.

The latest, It’s What I’m Thinking, is possibly the blandest of the lot. Every single song sounds like an album closer, ambling towards a disappointing and thoroughly underwhelming climax. This is an album which will inspire nothing. Where he was once upbeat and melodic, he’s now placid and flat. Vocals blend lazily with the music in a way which is designed to make neither interesting, and the whole record outstays its welcome by a good 20 minutes.

Just take the opener as an example. ‘In Safe Hands’ is exactly that; dire and unthreatening. There’s no risk, no spark, and no creativity. ‘The Order Of Things’ shows slightly more promise, however never reaches the heady heights of actually having a distinguished hook or catchy rhythm. The album’s middle two tracks last a total of 11 minutes, ‘I Saw You Walk Away’ being worthy of a mention for lifting spirits for over five minutes thanks to a return to the jaunty Gough of old, despite spending the last minute and a half crawling quietly towards the finish. The title track looms ominously afterwards and normal service is quickly resumed.

It’s What I’m Thinking is, essentially, lounge music. Littered with disgustingly vague lyrics – “I know you will forgive me for the things I have done wrong / sorry I never liked your favourite song “ – it’s a sad beginning to what appears to be a multi-part album. In fact, you can pick more or less any line from any song and be offended that money was made available to commit these words to record. Someone must have realised in the latter stages of recording, as Gough’s vocals are sometimes so distant they’re indistinguishable from the monotonous tunes.

There surely can’t be many more miles left in Badly Drawn Boy which, considering his earlier work, could be quite a disappointment. But if we’re going to be treated to efforts such as these maybe it’s time to finally call it a day.