Singing Adams' songs have all the ingredients of the very finest sensibly-jumpered pop. A jaunty (well, often) strum, handclap rhythms, a pinch of swirling organs, the odd dash ofmildly countrified atmospherics. All employed with immense craft in the service of a massively weary cleverness – melancholy but hopeful. All of which might make the album worthy but dull. But like its predecessor Everybody Friends Now (not to mention the earlier work of its various members, from the Broken Family Band to Absentee) it’s a million miles from that. It helps that they have a tendency to sound like they’re throwing away melodies that others would hoard like precious jewels. It also helps that they ring the changes a bit - You Drew A Line for instance employs muted electronica to much the same effect.
It’s also that in amongst the coffee morning strummers there has always been a real place for, if not exactly ‘grown-up’ pop music, then pop music that’s greying at the temples and as filled with low wattage emotions like regret and disquiet as it is with the big ticket items like hope and love. Pop music for when the world you ought to understand a bit by now seems as baffling as ever and the responsibilities you were never sure you wanted start to weigh heavy. Pop music that you can draw around yourself like an old blanket and keep life at bay for a bit. The songwriting has to be bloody good of course or it just goes flat. Moves proves again that Singing Adams belong with the best. Pull it tight and feel the warmth.