the electric press Review, June 2005
I was dashing out on my way to play in a concert when I decided to check the letter box. I found a copy of Glyn Bailey’s debut solo album, ‘Toys From Balsa’. upon ripping open the packaging there it was, expectantly waiting to be listened to in a shiny new jewel case, with an accompanying page of notes describing the contents. It was from here I learnt that Glyn Bailey is an ‘English singer-songwriter making quirky pop-rock tunes with unusual themes’. Fair enough. These unusual themes, I soon discovered, include ‘plastic bags, cannibalism, abusive relationships, a communist feast and Laurel & Hardy in heaven.’ What does one say about that?

Owing to an extremely hectic schedule, Bailey’s CD sat on my shelf for weeks, eyeing me, as I guiltily tiptoed around the fact that I had to review a CD which featured the lyric ‘it’s a mad bad fag-drag world’, and clocked in at a daunting 75 minutes for 15 tracks. However, I eventually got around to putting it on, gave it a listen, pondered what there was to actually WRITE about, listened again, and realised that for all its length, what ‘Toys From Balsa’ really lacks is anything in the actual way of substance. Whilst Bailey borrows a lot of musical pointers from artists such as David Bowie, (and I can hear a bit of Dire Straits and The Flaming Lips thrown in there for good measure), the album is a messy and incoherent jumble of their styles.

This is not to say that the album is without any redeeming qualities; far from it. Several of the songs are actually quite good- ‘He Says She Says’ lyrically discusses disparity between a couple’s opinions of one another, whilst ‘D Block Girl’ features a catchy as hell guitar intro. ‘A Dream of Laurel & Hardy’ has the dubious honour of being lyrically one of the least impressive songs on the CD, but compensates for that with some of the better music. In snippets, this album has some damn fine moments. Unfortunately, these are all too often 30 seconds or less long, and surrounded by mediocre filler. The albums biggest problem, not surprisingly, is brought about by its extravagant length and the length of the songs within it. Where 3-4 minutes of the essence of the song would have sufficed, Bailey has opted for the somewhat iffy decision of having several songs up around the 6 minute mark, with the majority well over four minutes. If brevity is the soul of wit, this is one of the least witty albums one is likely to find claiming to be a pop-rock album. More often than not, one eventually just gets worn down by the sheer weight of Bailey’s lofty ambitions. He has some good ideas, but is clearly unsure of how to express them effectively on many of the tracks. ‘Toys From Balsa’ drags on almost painfully through its weakest tracks, and the best tracks are scarcely enough to tide the listener over. The lyrical quirks provide some light relief from the boring nature of the album at hand, but there’s only so many times one can listen to a line like ‘She went down on me but I thought about you’ before it stops being quirky and gets old (one, actually).

I really do want to like this CD, because Bailey has clearly put a great deal of effort into it, the accompanying website, and getting his music out to all corners of the globe (I’m in Australia). The production is good, with the instruments melding together fluently. However, from a production viewpoint, I often found the vocals were drowned out under the somewhat weighty guitars and synths. With some selective trimming, both from the total length of songs and some culling of entire tracks, there are around 30 minutes of alright ideas on this album which would make a far more palatable listen. The catchiness of D Block Girl alone raises this album from what could potentially be a rather low rating, and gives this reviewer, at least, hope that potential further releases could be more worthwhile.

Rating- 4.9/10

©Iain Treloar Electric-Press.com