The Frames are one of those veteran bands who are kings in their own realm but almost unknown beyond its borders. Regularly reaching the top of the album charts in Ireland, the Dublin-based outfit has nevertheless failed to make an international impact.
Perhaps it's the lack of a unique selling point. Cynics might say this is just another generic celtic folk-rock album, where almost every song slow builds to a big anthemic chorus and bungs in a violin solo half-way through. Others might say it wears its influences on its sleeve. "True" is a virtual clone of Radiohead's "Climbing Up The Walls" before it morphs into a weird duet with Hansard's tormented vocals soaring over Czech singer Markéta Irglová's semi-conversational counterpoint. "Falling Slowly" and "Song For Someone" both invite comparisons with Coldplay, though both outclass that undeservedly massive band within half a verse. "People Get Ready", meanwhile, references the hummingbird-at-a-flower guitar work of U2's Edge.
Thing is, envelope-pushing originality only takes you so far, and none of it matters a damn when the songs are this good and performed with this kind of sincerity and fervour. Hansard has obviously been having a rough time in the romantic stakes and the lyrics pull no punches, tearing away at guilt and regret and self-disgust with a desperation which chills "I find it so hard to be true / And all these lies I'm telling you / Are little anchors in my chest / That pull us down into this mess."
Meanwhile the gossamer "Rise" builds into a thing of vicious passion, raising the ghost of Jeff Buckley's "Grace" (in fact, an as-yet-unknown Buckley once roadied for the band and singer Glenn Hansard wrote 1999's "Neath The Beeches" in his memory). And "Bad Bone" is an excoriating look at the "jealousy that's killed every love I've ever known", explored with a sexual honesty matched only, perhaps, by eccentric outsider Will Oldham.
The album sags a little in the middle, with the so-so "When Your Mind's Made Up" and "Sad Songs" failing to live up to the grandeur of the album's first half - or indeed, its closing trio. But peaks and troughs are part of what makes music human - and this is very human music, recorded live and sans overdubs with all the human resonance and random imperfection that implies.