To some extent, an artist’s new album is always “just like starting over”. Young New York-based songman Luke Rathborne‘s second LP effort is more of a new beginning than most, however. Its eponymous nature gives it the feel of a clean slate, and the all but disappearance of his first record adequately explains the need for one; with a new start comes a new opportunity to be noticed. Although Rathborne’s voice and attention to musical detail make him seem wise beyond his years, these songs are so uniformly subdued and weighed down with leaden emotion that it’s difficult to see how he can make a bigger impact this time around.

There can, it seems, be such thing as too much emotion on a record. On ‘Solon Town’ Rathborne’s voice is under so much strain of feeling that it doesn’t so much break as shatter, fragmenting all over the place and leaving more than a few cringeworthy moments littered around. On each song, strings swoop in mournful majesty as the guitars and piano plod along beneath – without doubt, there’s a place for music like this, for entire albums of it, but on Luke Rathborne the effect simply becomes too oppressive. Although there are only eight songs – none of which are particularly long – this record is a truly languid experience, and almost a torture to endure. ‘Sad Days’ indeed.

Rathborne does throw us a bone with his opener, at least. ‘Tomorrow’ – the very title of which seems to offer hope of a brighter future which never comes, on this record at least – is the closest thing to an upbeat song on offer. When it’s all-too-brief promise dries up and the rot sets in, a re-listen Jeff Buckley’s Grace seems appealing indeed. It’s not that Rathborne’s sound is beholden to that album by any means, but rather that hearing Rathborne’s work reminds us how challenging it is to construct a serious singer-songwriter album and infuse it with real variety and verve. With this effort, Rathborne has simply not achieved that goal, but he displays enough ability and has enough years left to learn from his mistakes.