Review of Remarkably Unremarkable – By Glen Dixon

Osborne’s beguiling concoction of songs is wonderfully joyous, humorous and nostalgic, yet there is a seam of cynicism, of melancholy throughout, which binds them and, occasionally, elevates them to an uncommon level of profundity.

Often, when an optimistic, upbeat melody is combined with nihilistic lyrics, this album is the musical equivalent of a summer picnic with the very real threat of a downpour lingering in every verse.

‘Praise Me’ tears along happily until the hint of scorn for celebrity culture seeps in with the lines ‘You don’t have to be sincere/Praise me – delude me/Just tell me what I want to hear’.

‘Walking Like a Man Again’ appears to be a comment on confused masculinity, while ‘Rushing Around’ is a condemnation of the modern world’s seeming inability to defer gratification for more than the few seconds it takes to switch on a mobile device.

‘The Lonesome Mugger’ is a sad tale of an aspirational criminal simply too gentle to prosper in his chosen profession, which has echoes of the great.

‘Ernie’ by Benny Hill. In stark contrast, Osborne shows his range with the poignant ‘I Spend My Time With Photographs’. Anyone who has ever lost a parent couldn’t fail to be moved by the beautiful, almost spectral piano and the painful resonance of the lyrics, ‘In photographs, time stands still/Nobody getting old, nobody getting ill’.

‘The Benefit Of Ringing Your Friends When They’re Out’ is a rip-roaring crowd pleaser, which showcases Osborne’s talent for juxtaposition: anti-social sentiments run easily alongside a celebratory, optimistic melody.

‘She’s With This Strange Man’ could be an anthem for misfits and stalkers everywhere – material success and conformity are eerily repugnant to the ‘voice’ of the song, a man suffering from unrequited love who likes to ‘Stare at lamp posts on industrial parks’ (don’t we all?)

‘Heatwave in October’ is an archetypal Osborne song: there’s a nostalgic beauty to the soft guitar / piano backing and a relaxed richness to his voice as he laments the awful, displaced clemency of sunny weather in the autumn.

‘Remarkably Unremarkable’ is anything but: this darkly witty, at times euphorically ironic collection of songs might bring with it a glowering, ominous bank of cloud, but that’s no reason to cancel the picnic. Musically, the threat of rain here makes the moments in the sun all the more precious.