The Communion label, formed in 2010 by Ben Lovett of Mumford and Sons, has developed quite the formidable roster over the years, signing the likes of Ben Howard, Michael Kiwanuka, Daughter and Half Moon Run and now they ready themselves for the sophomore effort by Aldershot’s Matthew Hegarty and, well his Atlas band. Where their debut, 2014’s Other Rivers, fell down and was often criticised was surrounding the lack of sincerity it produced. Its sound, something that fell quickly in tangent with the likes of Communion’s other signings, left a gap within the sincerity, largely because at the start of the decade and in the run up to 2014, it was becoming such a hard sound to master due to the over-saturated market of tweed, acoustic guitars and excessive facial hair. So how does 2016 pose a different shape for Matthew and the Atlas? The thrill surrounding Temple is the question regarding how they can find their own groove within a sound. Previously being slated as the British take on Bon Iver, Hegarty and co now seem to find closer standings to their counterparts on the other side of the pond, not as the British version but using them as points of reference.

The previous conspiracies that suggested Matthew and the Atlas were to become just another mediocre, run of the mill soft-rock, folk group has become little more than fodder of the yesteryear for the group. The opener to the album, ‘Graveyard Parade’ suggests not only a new found sincerity that has arrived within the sound but ultimately an all round dedication to the art of songwriting. These are well thought out songs; dynamics work to exaggerate sections with lush, washing textures. The coordination of how each instrument is tastefully introduced calls for a gradual build in the overall sound that Matthew and the Atlas produce. Whereas previously there may have been a haphazard dash to introduce the lot instantly, there is now a new beast that lurks within the charm of patience. Just listen to the closing choruses of ‘Graveyard Parade’ and there is quite literally a marching parade glimmer to the whole fiasco. Patience is a virtue with this.

You could be forgiven for thinking that ‘On A Midnight Street’ is a War On Drugs cover, the electronic drum rhythm that drives the song and runs underneath is something not too far from the likes of ‘Under The Pressure’. However, what marks the difference and the originality in the song is with Hegarty’s distinctive voice and the raw emotion that he seems to have found on his follow up effort. Hegarty’s sincere preoccupation with the world around us is demonstrated in the beauty of his words: “See my daughter grow older in a world that still has beauty”. This notion is emphasised by the vision in his music. The two come together to provide quite the utopian, pastoral retreat; built upon a structure of gentle reverb and contemplative lyricism.

The strong run of songs that open the album linger somewhat around the mid-rift, the title track is just as strong as the openers, dedicating emphasis on textures that surround the guitar parts, once again juxtaposing big choral sections with the moorish atmospherics. String sections are introduced as thrashing guitars add a new dimension to the previously titled British Bon Iver. This feels closer to the notion that Matthew and the Atlas want to outline their own sound within the Communion Records collective. However, as we turn to the likes of ‘Elijah’ and ‘Old Master’, songs weaken around the archetypal finger-picked styled guitar and melancholic sorrow that is so horrendously wishy-washy at times. It is where the lack of sincerity comes through, partially due to the nature of Hegarty’s voice, it is big, loud and unrestrained, it doesn’t seem to find the same comfort and positioning in delicacy as is it does with the robust. The songs themselves feel a little too beige and mimicking of other bands that may have introduced the onslaught of nu-folk back at the turn of the decade. You have been given the inclination and notion that the group can pinpoint their own experiments within the sound and therefore it feels slightly lacklustre as they fall back on previous incarnations.

‘Modern World’ and ‘Mirrors’ are testament to this fact. Matthew and the Atlas find their grounding here and their true spirit as a group; it lives and breathes emotion, soul and sincerity, something they were previously criticised for missing. Sections build and pulsate, it strikes with tension and honesty suggesting that their real tenderness is so often in line with riffs rather than between them. The textures that Hegarty builds within ‘Can’t You See’ is in compliment to how he has developed as a writer, no longer afraid to break the shackles of his folk titling. The climax of the album, ‘When the Light Hits the Water’ sees Matthew find his most glorious, and personal, uttering references to missing a certain somebody whilst surrounding his own distinctive voice within eerie string atmospherics; jarring textures juxtapose his voice and ultimately, bring about all those feelings that humanity seeks from music.

Matthew and the Atlas’ follow up effort demonstrates a band that are growing more comfortable with themselves. This may be Hegarty’s quick-fire songwriting pattern, supposedly penning a song a week when out in Nashville. It may be this that has upped his game and consistency so much, setting a picture for his album in an almost conceptual manner. The sincerity and soul within his music is the most obvious point of improvement and when he turns his back on all that previously defined the nu-folk hype, he really cuts his teeth on something quite special. ‘Gutter Heart’, in a similar fashion to ‘On A Midnight Street’ finds its comparisons on the other side of the pond with Kurt Vile, Woods and Cass McCombs and suggests that perhaps Matthew Hegarty finds that more comfortable. It’s fantastic though how Hegarty finds this Trans-Atlantic crossover between vigorously British, pastoral themes and an American musical sensibility. He appears to be quite the diverse culture enthusiast and long may this continue.
Tom Churchill

Website: matthewandtheatlas.com
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