Having cut his teeth with a teenage agit-punk band on the Isle of Lewis, (it’s in the Outer Hebrides), Colin Macleod eventually decided to go it alone under the rather grand moniker of The Boy Who Trapped The Sun. This decision was apparently the result of a brush with Dylan’s Masters of War but Fireplace’s content suggests that Macleod is more than familiar with Blood on The Tracks. In fact the album’s central theme of the disintegration of relationships is so strong that it’s got a one track mind. As you might expect it’s a thoroughfare that is covered in the thorns and nettles of disappointment and sorrow.

Unlike fellow punker turned folkateer, Frank Turner, The Boy Who has gone down a far more introspective road, eschewing easily bellowed choruses or instantly accessible hooks. He’s also kept things simple and rather than employing a band to support his songs by playing just about everything on the album – with the exception of the strings and female backing vocals. It turns out that Macleod is something of a gifted multi-instrumentalist.

‘Golden’ opens the album with the sound of waves crashing on to the shore and the call of seagulls, before a delicate guitar line thrums away in mournful mood. Reflecting on his family life and the rubble of a relationship, Macleod’s vocals are surprisingly warm and welcoming. His layered backing vocals are achingly beautiful and with the addition of some wonderfully understated strings he sets about trying to break the heart of the listener – presumably so he’s not on his own any more.

Recent single ‘Katy’ follows in an unexpected upbeat manner. Pinching part of the melody of ‘Come on Eileen’ and forcing it into a spit and sawdust ho-down, The Boy Who attempts to raise the spirits a little. Yet there’s still those lyrics to keep things grounded, “Don’t say you love me, don’t be too hasty – cos if you do, I’m running out the door” he sings in a disarmingly cheery manner. The contrasting moods of ‘Katy’ might give a slight glimpse as to why there are so many songs about broken relationships on the album. Mr Macleod clearly likes to play hard to get, and is an expert in throwing out mixed messages.

The title track keeps the tempo up, but returns to a more contemplative mood. With its brushed drums and breathy vocals, it’s an atmospheric piece to say the least. The addition of some smart accordion and almost hidden string parts showcases The Boy Who’s talent perfectly.

Elsewhere there’s the Dylan meets Jellyfish ballad of ‘Thorn In Your Side’ with it’s simple but effective piano riff. The downbeat piano led trawl through Walking in The Dark which begs the question “now I could sing a sad love song, but what if the words were wrong?” prompting the response from the listener “it doesn’t seem to have stopped you so far”.

Then there’s the glorious ‘Dreaming Like a Fool’ which keeps Macleod at the piano but has him reaching out towards the gentle pop songs of The Reindeer Section. It’s one of the highpoints of the album, along with ‘Home’, the slinky bass led creeping psychefolk centrepiece of the album. These two songs in particular represent The Boy Who Trapped The Sun’s most distinctive moments – being the only two songs that you’d be confident of humming the melody to in the shower unaccompanied. As such, it’s fair to say that although there is some startling musicianship to be found on Fireplace, it sometimes becomes a little formulaic.

With any luck Macleod will have a successful relationship between Fireplace and his next release and we’ll find out what he can come up with in a more pleasant state of mind. For now, this is a fine collection of songs, shackled by their subject matter and the folk template. That the most memorable moments come when Macleod spreads his wings is no surprise, hopefully he’ll do it more often in future.