You won't be saddned to remember this.

Yngve and the innocent are an Irish alt-country band that have been relentlessly hardworking since their move from Ireland to London, where they have been for four years. Averaging over 100 shows a year, releasing a couple of singles and garnering airplay on Radio 2 by Steve Lamacq, they have had time to develop their songs and perfect their playing. This certainly shows on The Sadness of Remembering, which was funded by the group's continuous touring and recorded basically straight after coming off the road.

The album opens with The Weight of Your Finger, which begins slowly, piecing each different instrument into the mix one after the other, starting with the percussion, then bass, lead guitar and finally vocals. This showcases the layering in the track, which is present throughout the rest of the album, on each track the different parts coming together to create a wonderful texture in the music. The track itself is a ballad about heartbreak and loss, and continues on at an easy, chilled-out pace, and sets up the rest of the album nicely.

Now the real quality begins. If The Weight of Your Finger seemed to present vulnerability and wistfulness in its content, all that is dispensed with on Draw A Line. Next, the band waste little time launching into their single, oozing confidence in their material on this piano-led, country-tinged number, with a big, Felice Brothers-esque chorus. The opener is about heartbreak and loss, and here we are reassured that we should "move on, draw a line, all will be revealed in time". There are a few nice lyrics here that dispense casual advice, like "people that leave are never as important as the ones that stay". Punctuated with a guitar solo and some excellent piano playing in the background, it still retains an air of simplicity, even though the playing is very accomplished. This is the kind of uplifting track that really puts a smile on your face. It is incredibly hard not to get swept up in its simple, accessible beauty.

This is followed with You'll be Mine: the first of a couple of drunken blues tracks (along with You've Been Released later) that roll along at sometimes breakneck speed and are the kind of tracks that must be a real crowd-pleasers live. This is the sound of a band having fun with their instruments, as is evident on the brilliant piano and drum solos, and the general playing throughout. This is continued still on Mr. King, with its almost funky opening and boozy vocals.

And the good tracks just keep coming. Chip on a Shoulder is a more reflective, slowed down song backed by a moodier sound, the verses punctuated by crashing guitars and harmonica playing that even Bob Dylan would be proud of: it adds to the mood of the track perfectly. After this, we are treated to (and it is a genuine treat) Quarantine, moving along at a pace in between those of You'll Be Mine and Chip on a Shoulder and employing use of a saxophone and (what I believe I'm right in saying is) an organ to brilliant, uplifting effect. The lyrics again are reflective and contemplative, dealing with deeper subject matter, but the music behind it is dazzlingly infectious.

I could go on. The second half of the album is just as full of musical accomplishment as the first, and each track has its own merits. True, the latter tracks may not quite hit the heights of the former that I have mentioned; they still do a cracking job. This is not an album you have to persist with to like, you will immediately. It is not the kind of album you revisit to discover new things about, you return to it because it's just consistently, upliftingly good. It does belong in the category of 'alt-country', and may not appeal to the biggest audience commercially, but if you genuinely aren't stirred by anything here, what's wrong with you?