“Tell me all of your intentions/ from the heart until the smallest whim.” So sings Londoner Benjamin Garrett, AKA Fryars, on In My Arms, one of a number of winning songs on this his second album – and his first for five years. The lyric also goes some way to summing up Power, split as it is between an opening salvo of emotionally frank songs and the remainder, which are playful and clever to the point of being opaque. Don’t Make It Hard on Yourself and On Your Own are the best of the beginning, offering visions of loneliness that are raised up by beautiful melodies. Here the style is evocative of Laurel Canyon rock, tricked up with bubbling digital percussion and eerie effects. Sequoia is the best example of the latter part of the album, an almost impenetrable jumble of lyrics such as: “Mother of my child, we don’t need petroleum here.” Again, however, it’s a musical tribute to California, and tips its hat to the harmonics of the Beach Boys (by way of Animal Collective). Some might feel the arched eyebrows undermine the sincerity, but either way, this is a recording with its fair share of memorable music.
