If you come into Delicate Steve Sings expecting to hear the voice of the titular star, then get ready to be disappointed. Fans of the guitarist will know the title of his new album is a cheeky joke though, half a wink at the audience and half an ode to how lyrical his guitar playing skills are. Delicate Steve (aka Steve Marion) has made a name by being able to establish his playing as a voice in itself, a recognisable style and tone that is as identifiable as any other vocalist. His list of collaborators is extensive and varied, going from Miley Cyrus to Paul Simon to Amen Dunes to the Black Keys
On Delicate Steve Sings, however, Marion’s voice is the vocal equivalent of a beige carpet or motel room drapes. He plays gently and fondly, like he’s trying to ruffle as few feathers as possible, or just laying down backing tracks for someone else. The end result is that the album feels like a collection of placating easy listening department store instrumental tracks that you might register briefly while shopping, but will find it difficult to form any kind of emotional attachment to. Sure, the dusty twang on “Easy For You” is pleasant, backed by a wordless female voice and syrupy strings, but it conveys no kind of distinct feeling. Similarly “Wind Won’t Blow” is amiable, a lightly spacey pedal effect lurking in the background behind the forgettable central melody. Nothing is bad here, but there is so little that would have anyone insist you stick the album on repeat.
There are some better moments: “I’ll Be There” has a thorny edge, a gingerly captivating swagger, and a much needed feel of real drama amidst each note; and opening track “Cherry” feels like a lost melody that’s been floating in your head for years, eddying kind of wonderfully as strings wrap it up in a cushion-like gauze. Every so often you might hear a feature in the sparse backgrounds that takes the focus more than Marion’s guitar, like the ghostly disembodied voice on “Baby” or the warming strings on “These Arms of Mine”, but that there is anything that risk taking the attention away from the titular star is worrying. Ultimately it’s a testament to the lacking hooks Marion lays up. A graceful guitar twang only goes so far, and before long it leaves the listener looking for something – anything – else in these sparse arrangements.
What’s perhaps most confounding is Marion’s takes on a variety of classic tracks. Their inclusion speaks to the record’s inspiration (Willie Nelson’s iconic covers album Stardust), but the renditions here are often achingly bland. The Emersons’ “Baby” is a smoky mood setter at best, but risks being blown away with the faintest of breezes, while aforementioned “These Arms of Mine” takes most of the soul out of Otis Redding’s song, serving as little more than a modest and just faithful rendition that edges you towards just going back to the original instead. The worst culprit is Marion’s take on The Beatles’ “Yesterday”, which is only a few degrees away from being sonically different from a rendition you would get if you pressed the “demo” button on a Casio keyboard. Like much of the content on Delicate Steve Sings, it adds so little to both the musical canon and Marion’s own catalogue. This might be him singing, but it’s almost worrying how little he has to say.
