Fresh bodies jump into the generic pool of 'Indie' without making a splash.
Pseudo-Indie music has been the bane of the post-millennium generation. Garish, middle-of-the-road, purposefully tuneless and derivative. It's less of a genre or even an art form than a fashion statement; a free accessory with every teen haircut. Now every major record label jumps on the 'indie' carthorse by propping up satellite companies and branding them a minor label so that their manufactured starlets can claim principle and integrity. However when an independent band know their place and don't seek pretension, they can conjure up a great record containing thrills, spills and off-beat heartache (without pretending to be world-weary poets).
Feldberg, thankfully, are a band of the latter. They are aware of their status amongst us fellow mortals and they seem to relish their eerie simplicity and quaint pop craftsmanship. "Don't Be A Stranger" is the debut album from the Icelandic duo, having already been released in Japan and Iceland, it is now being released in Blighty through Smalltown America records. It's a placid and tranquil listen; as if you've toppled backwards through a hedge, ending up in the grounds of some new-age meditation centre.
The stand-alone single is 'Dreamin' and it's proving to be an ear-pricker; even being used as in-flight comfort aboard Icelandair (sigh). Dreamin' is a straightforward pop song with a doey-eyed duet at it's throbbing centre. It's a simple song, but it's done correctly. Even when fraying waist-deep into absurdist rom-com territory ('I forgot to feed my car/ I'm walking over to your flat') the infectious hooks and ever-swelling harmonies allow you to carry on without much self-loathing. A meltingly sexy vocal arrangement from Rosa Birgitta Isfeld is submerged by the sound of bending guitar chords and a plain repartee courtesy of musical partner Einar Tonsberg.
The other main and brightly lit attraction of Feldberg's fairground "Don't Be A Stranger" is pitter-patter drama 'Running Around'. An ever sudden folksy pop ride that has it's bulbs fully charged, exuding warmth, humour and superficial loveliness. Once more Feldberg don't re-invent the wheel or even pump up its deflated tire, they merely keep it rolling. Feldberg clearly bear the singed markings of American culture. A tweak of faux LA can be heard at the squeaky peak of Isfeld's vocals which can prove irksome for those who long after the natural tongue.
Unfortunately the rest of the album fails to launch, let alone achieve the cloudy altitude of 'Dreamin'. The album soon tails off into 3 minute portions of so-so dull musings concerning the typical; misunderstood love and smitten longing, nevermore evident than on its mediocre title-track. The majority of songs derive from the samey generic pool of cliche romance and clear-cut generalisations, fitting for an awfully American B-movie, but not suitable for the real world.
"Don't Be A Stranger" isn't a bad album, it just isn't vital. It cannot be likened to a lung and it doesn't give you the urge to adorn your birthday suit and go paddling on Blackpool beach (which to my weltanschauung is the true aftermath of great music). Feldberg's debut is an average album with two very catchy and spirited songs at the helm and although it raises nothing more than a smile, it proves how splendid a smile can be.