Jason McNiff and the Lone Malones
Album: God Knows Why We Dream
Label: Tombola
Tracks: 13
Website: http://www.jasonmcniffandthelonemalones.com

Born in Bradford to Irish-Polish parentage, McNiff cites Italian leftist songwriter Fabrizio De Andre as a major influence, but his nasal vocals and strummed Americana tinted songs have more regularly prompted comparison to early Dylan.

Sharing the billing with his new band, which features London-based Polish fiddler Basia Barz and Ahab drummer Neil Marsh, this is his fifth album and yet he still remains, as the cliche has it, one of those best kept secrets. To be honest, I don't think this is going to suddenly see the world wake up one morning calling out his name, but for those who've been loyally following his career and those curious enough to take a first listen, only satisfaction lies within.

With a grainy voice that's the aural equivalent of walking barefoot on warm white sands, he kicks things off with The Picture, an Irish-tinged strummed mid-tempo slice of Americana that puts me in mind of Bap Kennedy, before launching into the title track, its Robert Johnson referencing spoken prologue drawing a distinction between the blues' struggle to resist evil and country's struggle to do good giving way to a dusty snare and fiddle driven shuffle as McNiff sets the scene - 'Almost night, it's the evening and I'm listening for my wife. I finally get up and I turn on the light as she come s back from her day. Now, as I shave, she draws the curtains and gets ready for the grave. She's looking for that warm place where I was sleeping...' in a manner that conjures Cormac McCarthy.

There's no lyric sheet with the album, which is rather disappointing given the stories sketched in songs like Coming Back To Life ('That was way back when a different sun shone, a different rain fell, a different train we were on. Today the wind took me back like the smell of wood to an old lumberjack, I'm sitting in the square, they're hosing it down, wearing a hat and a youthful frown, thinking about a girl, a poem and a song, round about the time it all started to go wrong'),Bonsai Tree ('In the garden we talk about many different walks cross the mountains and seas, tell me cos I'd like to know where the wild Tsubaki grow amongst the little Bonsai trees') and the moody, piano heavy Game Over ('Back in the country, bags in the hallway, dog leaping on your knee, so pleased to see you. Get a glass of water, man will be here in fifteen, think I'll take her for a walk, probably best if we don't talk, looks like her mind's made up').

Throughout, reflective playfulness mingles with a weight of sadness, the former evident on Thanks Leonard (a nod to Mr.Cohen for his influence - 'I got Leonard to thank for just a line or two, the one about the victory march in Hallelujah#) and the Band-echoing giddily upbeat Brockdish ('she said, "I think some of your songs are fine, but you overuse the word flower". She said that on the way to Brockdish') while the latter finds expression in the urgent Andalucian colours of Heart Of A Poet where 'through the holes in my dreams the wind is blowing', the slow marching, cornet shaded Different Word ('Looking at the stars tonight, there's something strange. The billion and one stars, they don't spell out her name, anymore') and the Dylanish scurry of Before I Lose You.

But even when the narratives are more nebulous, as with the poppily strummed Green (guessingly about jealousy and sporting the poetic line 'this morning I was woken by forgiveness, it's the season that I love the best') and the folksy acoustic Sicily (something about placing hope in the young generation with 'the skill to be melting the mountain snow'), the melodies, McNiff's delivery and his nimble guitar work are more than enough to hold the attention. You really should be living the Dream

Mike Davies