My initial experience with Casiotone for the Painfully Alone (henceforth referred to as simply 'tones, to save me a fair bit of typing) was not an audio one. Rather, for sometime the only working knowledge that I had of the band was their lyrics which I read through after Soulseek dropped the ball and returned no search results. This, granted, was several years ago now but my opinion of the band has always been skewed because of the by numbers lyrical approach of 'tones Owen Ashworth. Faux pas like "It's not the point that I'm mad, you fucked me up pretty bad" are enough to make anyone recoil, particularly when the words are right at the forefront and not buried beneath a torrent of loud guitars. Shitty metal bands take note: this doesn't mean you're off the hook.
Etiquette is Ashworth's fourth album and his first in three years. This time I have heard it before I have read it, as it were, which in turn allowed its plus points to shine through. The melodies, the soft downbeat vocals, the fine placed keys. Musically it's the band's most varied effort thus far, which still means it's like a college version of The Postal Service. That little bit rougher around the edges, that little bit more angsty.
If the instrumentation feels small but oddly endearing, then the lyrics synchronize perfectly. Little tales from a little man with a little life who could really be just about anyone. "Young Shields" works because of its contractions and uncertainties: they quit their jobs, run away, sleep till noon and get tattoos. However, the narrator still writes home to Mom and Dad for money, who in turn just don't get him at all. Douglas Coupland has a lot to answer for.
"I Love Creedence", "Nashville Parthenon" and "Don't they have Payphones Wherever you were Last Night" are similarly charming in spite of the clichés. Lonely twenty-something tales for a generation trapped in the middle and adrift in their own small worlds.
"Happy Mothers Day" is the only truly dreadful moment, guilty of the same thing which has always been 'tones problem: cringe worthy. Thankfully it only lasts forty seven seconds. Additionally the songs where Ashworth hands over the mic to his female friend ("Holly Hobby", "Scattered Pearls") let the album down somewhat. Perhaps it's because his image, intentional or not, is that of loner who makes his own music alone in his bedroom and the additional presence of other people on record spoils that a little. But, maybe he should be shattering that image now.
