After the release of a well-received debut and a brief hiatus, Cherry Ghost is back with their sophomore effort Beneath This Burning Shoreline and nothing significant has changed. Doves’ producer Dan Austin was again asked to co-produce as he was on Thirst For Romance. The band still ranges from folk to string-heavy alt-rock. The songs are still expansive and theatrical. The lyrics are still emotive and dark – perhaps darker this time around.
While the sound of chimes greeted listeners of their debut, Burning Shoreline begins with harsh piano and rolling drums on “We Sleep on Stones.” The song sounds like a soundtrack to a bar fight, and the brooding atmosphere just gains momentum from there. Eerie nature imagery is littered throughout the song, as well as the whole album. Aldred refers to an “injured bird in a closed fist” in “We Sleep on Stones,” and a bird can even be heard chirping on the slow but charming “My God Betrays.” “Oh rolling river, go greet the seas across the ink black night,” Aldred croons on the somber stunner “A Month of Mornings.” Nature, in its many forms, is the obvious protagonist on this record.
If the album title is any hint, Cherry Ghost does not do subtle. Frontman Simon Aldred, who sounds like a cross between Chris Martin and Editors’ Tom Smith, has a flair for the romantic, and not unlike those singers’ bands, when they’re on their game, they create beautiful, epic songs. When they aren’t, however, they are a bit melodramatic. Songs like the single “Kissing Strangers” and the lackluster “Only a Mother” could do with one less string arrangement. Aldred has a knack for pretty melodies, as well as imagery, but the resulting songs would be served better if they were dialed back a bit. The guitars are often hidden behind rollicking drum beats and violins. One can’t help but wish for an acoustic song just to lighten the mood.
Songs such as “4 AM” on Thirst For Romance saw the band dabbling in folk, but when they attempt the same thing this time around, the effect is not nearly as successful. Instead we get songs like “The Night They Buried Sadie Clay,” a country-western tune that would have you believe the band grew up in a saloon in Texas rather than northern England. One can get the feeling the band is trying to be something it isn’t. Determined to sound poetic, Aldred sings about sinister ocean waves or tales of dead young girls. What should be emotional just sounds fake.
Granted when the band reaches its potential, they can create gorgeous moments like the piano on “Barberini Square” or the entirety of tambourine jam “Black Fang.” Still, these bright spots are far too rare, and by the time the album (complete with three unnecessary instrumental tracks) is over nearly an hour after it’s begun, it has worn out its welcome.
