Saw Point

Saw Point! Saw, as in David, but also saw as in "having seen" - ie, I understood the value of the record I was reviewing, or "saw the point"; furthermore, it's a pun on "sore point", in that I had a bone to pick with Mr Saw. I man, come on, SAW POINT, pretty decent, eh?

OK, OK, it's a rubbish title. I spent most of my day on trains, and the rest drinking black ncoffee in nasty Pumpkin cafes on train stations, and I'm kind of wired, tired and tedious to know at the moment. Still, a weekend at Oxford's Folk Festival followed by a rush to a night with Lou Reed's Metal Machine trio should sort me out.

Edit: Fuck me. not only is Saw Point shit pun, but I've just reaslised I used it already.

Sigh.


DAVID SAW – BROKEN DOWN FIGURE (Iris Records)

David Saw stands out from any other Aylesbury singer you care to mention, in that his website blurb was written by Carly Simon. Sadly, despite her performing pedigree, it transpires that her puff biogs are as boring and unenticing as any other on the ‘net. Simon’s presence stops you in your tracks, but doesn’t deliver, and listening to this record has a pretty similar effect. What knocks you for six is the quality of Saw’s voice: his performance is rich and intimate, able to sound emotional without being miserable, and has a quietly poetic twist like he’s Ed Harcourt’s sensitive brother; what deflates the effect is the sadly pedestrian nature of the songs. “Don’t Call” is a great example, Saw singing with unhurried, assured phrasing to a neat little acoustic ballad atop a wash of jazz brush drums. It’s a delightful little opener and only spoilt by the presence of the recurring line “I can’t walk backwards”. Why ever not, Dave, it’s not hard? Or is this just a half considered attempt at symbolic writing?

All right, simmer down, we know a single undercooked image isn’t a hanging offence, but Saw follows this up with “Simple Song”, a drab ditty to file along with Daniel Powter’s unforgiveable “Bad Day”. “I love you like a melody running through my head” sings our lad, and yet ironically has managed to create the Platonic ideal of a humdrum forgettable piece of acoustic guff that is probably the hold music at Hell’s call centre.

Elsewhere, gorgeous singing is devalued by uninspired songwriting. “All At Sea” has a nice polished Nick Drake sound and reminds us happily of Stephen Duffy in his latter day acoustic mode, but the nautical imagery is hackneyed to the point of meaningless transparency. This is the sort of glorious song that should have a reviewer weeping into their thesaurus, but as it is Saw may as well be singing the menu from his local Chinese (and leaving out the Szechuan dishes in case things get a bit too exciting). The title track is somewhat better, bobbing along atop an emotive string arrangement, but jaunty barrelhouse lollop, “Buy My Record” is just annoying. And anyway, the lyric “Buy my record from a record store” is pretty outmoded - the sort of people who’d want Saw’s music would be those who downloaded a single track because they heard it on Scrubs.

What we have here is a well made record with a tasteful cover by a highly talented vocalist backed by some sympathetic musicians, which is scuppered against all the odds by an all-pervasive air of banality. We notice that Fairground Attraction’s Mark Nevin was involved in the recording; if only Saw were given a song of the quality of “A Smile In A Whisper” or 50s pop throwback “Perfect”, he could overtake Radio Two singlehandedly. We’re sorry to be so hard on an artist who has so much going for him…but if this review makes you angry, David, for God’s sake write a song about it. Write a song about anything, man, but stop paddling in these safe rockpools, you should be riding the breakers into the glorious sunset.

Look, we can do crap seaside imagery too, see how annoying it is?