Who would have ever thought that an album of acoustic Nirvana songs would work? The release of this album in the wake of Kurt Cobain's suicide no doubt boosted sales but it proved without doubt the inherent power of Nirvana's music. It also highlighted how gifted they were in interpreting other peoples music. It's hard to shift the image of Cobain crouched on that stool in the middle of a stage littered with flowers. A captive audience sitting doe-eyed on the floor in front of him. Compare this scene with the uproarious video for 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' and you see that by the unplugged album Nirvana had come full circle. By November 1993 Nirvana were the complete band even though Kurt Cobain's inner turmoil would overhaul him within 6 months.

Normally the very notion of an unplugged album makes me nauseous. It just conjures up images of that old goat Billy Joel on his piano, crooning through a back catalogue that should have been put out to pasture decades before. This album is different; even though it is recorded without much wattage the performance is dare I say it, electric. You can almost feel the enthusiasm from the crowd who knew they were witnessing history in the making. Kurt Cobain voice sounds particularly gravely on the stunning opener, 'About A Girl' from the ‘Bleach’ album. The spaghetti strand drumming of Dave Grohl bolsters the constant chord changes. 'Come As You Are' holds on to its distinctive guitar twang even in its stripped down state and Cobain's vocals are as robust as ever. 'Jesus Doesn't Want Me For A Sunbeam' has some wonderful accordion playing from Krist Novoselic and Cobain voice sounds incredibly vulnerable. The lyrics are sadly prophetic and the song is an apt lament for music's great loss. In an album of touching moments, pride of place must go to final track 'Where Did You Sleep Last Night'. Music as heartbreaking as this is rare, so handle the experience with care.

On occasions the unplugged versions outdo their studio relations. 'Dumb' is bolstered by a wonderful cello arrangement and has a more wholesome sound than what appears on the million seller ‘In Utero’’. 'Polly' was an obvious choice seeing as it was already semi-acoustic but hearing it untutored, open to Cobain's mood on the day, is a joy. Not knowing the original version of 'The Man Who Sold The World' by David Bowie, before Nirvana did a take on it, was an advantage. I wasn't tainted by expectation and that powerful chord riff quickly won me over. Who cares if it contravenes the unplugged rulebook, this is one of the greatest reworkings of all time. Cobain rarely falters throughout the performance. He does struggle to get to grips with the vocal strains of 'On A Plain' at first but recovers admirably. His humour is very much in evidence highlighting the comfort he took from performing even when he was experiencing excruciating stomach pains. 'All Apologies' is the only track that lacks a killer edge. The version on 'In Utero' is one of Nirvana's crowning moments but here it sounds a tad tired. Nirvana perform 3 songs from the Meat Puppets 'Oh Me', 'Plateau' and 'Lake of Fire'. To add a taste of authenticity Curt Kirkwood from the Meat Puppets plays guitar on all 3 tracks. Each song seamlessly fits in with the unplugged notion. 'Lake of Fire' is particularly impressive, Cobain adopts a croaking southern drawl and the chugging guitar makes a delightful accompaniment.

The production on the album is exemplary partly due to Nirvana's intoxicating performance. There is the odd amplifier whistle and once or twice Cobain sings too closely into the mike but overall it is astonishing to think that the album was recorded in a single take. Listening now one could almost be transported back to that seminal evening. Unplugged in New York is a tonic for those interested in getting to know this bands music without having to struggle with the complexities of their studio albums. The album gives you the nuts and bolts, the melody without the white noise, a revealing insight into workings of some modern day classics. The fact that most bands would wither under such a difficult spotlight acts as a true testament to Nirvana's legend.

Rating: 9/10

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For a band that seem to press all the right buttons it's a little surprising that the Lemonheads haven't achieved more success. Here is a band with a singer who is easy on the eye, possess cheery tunes aplenty and purport to moral values that don't require a parental warning. It's a Shame About Ray was their first album to tweak any interest outside of their native America and offers a glowing account of their potential. Evan Dando is the Gram Parsons adoring singer who writes all the music. His countrified drawl rarely changes pitch throughout the album, which is a bit of a pity because his lungs could probably offer a more wholesome workout. Ably helping him is Juliana Hatfield, the bass player and backing vocalist. She has had a moderately successful career with her own band, the ingeniously monikered Juliana Hatfield 3. Their song 'My Sister' went on to dent the outer reaches of the charts.

'It's A Shame About Ray' is a subtle album that could play in the background without ever offending anyone. The melodies spill generously from each of its 13 tracks and every once in a while you have to sit back and admire the consistent quality at work. The title track for example is so overtly wonderful; given the right exposure it could have drunks up and down the land attempting it in unison on their way home. 'Rockin Stroll' opens proceedings at a frantic pace. The guitar shards fire every each way as Dando attempts to rein in the chord bluster and chaotic drumming with some controlled vitriol. Against this backdrop the delightful 'Confetti' sounds close to sane. It remains one the album's highlights, swinging as it does from the coat tails of the cleanest of acoustic riffs. If you were to paint a picture of the images the tune conjures then a large ballroom with hundreds of twirling evening gowns would come fairly close.

'Rudderless' turns out to be nothing of the sort. The chord arrangements are clever and Hatfield's periodic vocal intermissions are fresh and dainty. 'The Turnpike Down' is equally impressive, with guitar and bass sequences recalling New Order while Dando produces a vocal delivery as slick as hair gel. This is the sort of music that just begs to be listened to. 'Buddy' is about as slowcore as the album gets, it is quaint but a little half-baked and droll. Many of the tunes pass by in a flash, hovering around the 3-minute mark. 'Alison's Starting To Happen' is less than 120 seconds long but its feverish makeup will blast a hole in your shirt. It all sounds like the band had purposely thrown their instruments into a washing machine in the hope that something melodic would eventually come out in the wash. Thankfully the experiment pays off handsomely with the result that 'Alison's Starting To Happen' is bold, dazzling and a riel treat.

The song that catapulted the Lemonheads to fame was their cover of Simon and Garfunkels 'Mrs. Robinson' from 'The Graduate' soundtrack. As well as introducing a new generation to the film, it breathed new gusto into a song that was over 20 years old. David Ryan's drumming is particular prevalent and beautifully adds to the songs scuzzy tact. Calm down there Juliana, when she does 'Bit Part' opens up to divulge the story of an unrequited friendship. What it lacks in substance it more than makes up with an energy that could power a hydroelectric station. Much more substantial is the rollercoasting 'Kitchen', the sometime dual vocals superbly keeping up with the lightning guitars. With several nods to Nashville 'Hannah & Gabi' rustles a strong melody from the unlikeliest of sources. The vocals are underplayed, the words lack self-esteem but the emotions that are central to its cause will have you tearing up. On a similar thread 'Frank Mills' sounds like it was recorded in a barn. Not very distinguished unless you are perched on a blanket, sitting around a fire taking periodic glances at the starry night sky.

Perhaps it's the album's distant lack of shock value or the ease at which the tunes sound amiable that has hindered the progress of this album. The lyrics tend to drift from the simplistic to the banal adding credence to the thought that Mr. Dando's mind was perhaps resident in a parallel universe (ceiling fan in my spoon, anyone?) during the recordings. There is no denying, however, that 33 minutes in the company of the Lemonheads is time well spent. An album you'll keep returning to even if something replaces the guitar as pop music's greatest invention.

Rating: 7/10

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Outcasts in their hometown of Bergen in Norway where death metal is the only musical form, the Kings of Convenience are likely to be embraced everywhere else where their music is played. You see the Kings of Convenience produce little tuneful vignettes that are as quiet as a mouse but as powerful as weil's disease. Erlend Oye and Eirik Glambek Boe are often photographed in large duffel coats and schoolboy thick rimmed glasses. But before you start calling them the Scandinavian Proclaimers, check out the gentle intelligence of their melodies gloriously swathed in those crafty acoustic nuances. And not many albums get this acoustic. Save for a few slivers of electricity this is a closest thing you'll get to an eco party this side of the Green's summer picnic.

'Winning A Battle Losing The War' sets the scene from the outset. Guitars are gently conjoled, intermittedly uncovering a dazzling riff, to produce a wonderful fondue base for the sweet vocals. While the sense of acousticism is acute, there are a surprising number of instruments on show. 'Singing Softly To Me' for example has a lingering trumpet shadow that skirts in and out of attention, going some way to deflecting the utter tweeness of the vocals (nice thought they are). At the start of 'Toxic Girl' you almost expect Damon Albarn to damage his tonsils a la 'Song 2'. Thankfully the sultry whirl of 'Toxic Girl' has a lot more to offer. Erlend and Eirik don't exactly work themselves into a sweat but this tunes value comes forth from a combination of sweet harmonies, non-apologetic flights of lust and a fine fusion of meandering laid-back guitars.

At times you have to marvel at the ingenuity of it all. 'I Don't Know What I Can Save You From' uses the most basic of ingredients but somehow creates a tune that is close to shiver inducing. There's not a hint of a drum in sight yet the vocal driven melody is hugely powerful when it fuses with the melancholy of the trailing cello. This intensity continues unabated on the single 'Failure'. The music comes close to resembling the Badly Drawn Boy template but the vocals are nothing short of luxurious. Who needs electricity to power the instruments when it's hanging in the air like pollen. Things are toned down a little as the innocent joy of 'Weight Of My Words' floats feather like from the speakers. The delicate vocals are matched by a musical backdrop that is as light as a diet wafer. Confusing as this may sound, it packs a huge emotional punch. Just pity the elderly and hard of hearing for missing out on such a fragile thrill.

As Quiet Is The New Loud progresses you'll find yourself tilting up the volume as it seemingly drops into unconsciousness. This is of course intoned by the albums title but sadly as it gets quieter the level of quality diminishes slightly. The first half of the album is drenched in melody but in the latter stages the ideas seemed a little stretched. 'The Girl From Back Then' suffers in comparison to its close relative 'Singing Softly To Me'. A case of a morning bell getting one too many tolls. Half way through and there's only one moment of distraction. Its not bad but 'Passenger' sadly lives up to it's name. Devoid of any real inspiration, it plods along rather like a spluttering banger without a steering wheel.

The Kings of Convenience lack the lyrical expanse and fluidity of contemporaries Belle and Sebastian which is a shame because when music is played at such a low ebb the words tend to attain greater resonance. The duo are also prone to the odd whimsical flutter. 'Little Kids' for example borders on the inane, even when it's Simon and Garfunkel style points to something bigger and better. Thankfully there are also moments as precious as 'Summer On The Westhill' to erase any feelings of short changedness. Where the Kings of Convenience could easily slip into frivolity, they go and defy the odds by making something that is frighteningly quiet sound altogether more intriguing. The final salvo 'Parallel Lines' also sounds grand; the chopping chords display imagination while the vocals could easily be culled from a Nick Drake composition.

The Kings of Convenience have gilded 12 fragile tunes that will have fans of modern folk licking their lips. At times the Norwegian duo slip too much into acoustic melodrama, when raising the decibel level from time to time could have perhaps provided a more fertile option. 'Quiet Is The New Loud' is nonetheless an impressive debut. It is surely the perfect accompaniment for those lazy days spent swaying in a Mexican hammock while all around you the world struggles in vain to catch up with itself.

Rating: 6/10

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Up to recently I had avoided solo artists like the plague reasoning that something was always going to be more interesting if it came from a group of people. This rather pathetic logic was turned on its head after I discovered Nick Drake, Badly Drawn Boy and Sparklehorse. So where once I would have treaded neatly around stuff released by artists like Matthew Jay, I now head straight for the nearest listening post. Draw does not disappoint; the production is lush, the ideas are creative and at intervals it is liable to leave you in various stages of exhilaration.

Matthew Jay was born in Wales (which ultimately led to lazy David Gray comparisons in the press) to a musical family. When his father lost his job as a coalminer, he turned his hand to making guitars. With his parent’s love of folk music and a ready supply of instruments available on his doorstep, Jay junior set about writing his own songs from a very young age. After much effort and on the point of jacking in all in Jay was eventually signed to Food Records (Blur). 'Let Your Shoulder Fall' was the first release from 'Draw' and became the single of the week on Mark and Lard's Radio One show. It's hard to argue with their decision because 'Let Your Shoulder Fall' is an upbeat jive with a classy guitar centrepiece. Matthew Jay's voice has a soft lilt but it manages to swoop and soar in a way that conjures up a happy Nick Drake (!). 'Four Minute Rebellion' is the quaint opener on the album, although the not so subtle swearing comes a little bit of a surprise.

There is an underlying nostalgic feel to a lot of 'Draw'. 'You're Always Going Too Soon' for example is a remarkably studied pop song delivered with style and panache that has an internal spirit that harks back to the summer of 1976. While Jay’s voice is timeless the music sounds like it has been beautifully preserved in a sealed casket for decades. What a double bill he and the Webb Brothers would make! 'Only Meant To Say' evokes some better Lightning Seeds moments (particularly 'Sense', although this makes more), happy music designed to make you smile. It starts out with some shimmering spacey guitars and a wandering vocal. Then, quite by surprise, the tune gets possessed by a fully fledged demon of a chorus. Quite simply a sunshine tune that bursts at the seams with gleeful attitude.

The guitars on 'Meteorology' sound rather close to something Noel Gallagher would cook up. Jay's delicately hushed vocals elevate proceedings while the distant strings add the necessary class. It is quite stirring and beautifully slows things down momentarily. 'Call My Name Out' had me thinking of the theme to Hill Street Blues (or was that Taxi?). The 'hey na na na na' bit sounds a little borrowed but the good vibes do help you overlook this minor quibble. Not for the first time Jay employs a double vocal that adds to his music's rich texture. 'Molasses' is this albums only instrumental (save for a light female hum) and could easily be a cut from Doves masterpiece, 'Lost Souls'. The acoustic riff and tick-tock electronic beats act as a subtle comedown and provide an opportunity to catch your breath from the preceding waves of aural candy. 'Please Don't Send Me Away' turns the spotlight on Jay's lean vocal deliveries again. While they hog the attention, the music that surrounds them is startlingly accomplished.

'Remember This Feeling' includes some input from ex Six By Seven (Nottingham noise meisters) member Sam Hempton. Hempton carves out wondrous sonics using a drumstick to play his guitar. The song is positively drenched in bygone signposts; 10cc are the closing influence that springs to mind. 'Become Yourself' is as exquisite a moment as finding a lemon tree in your back yard. The sense of joie de vivre that is expelled will paint rainbows in your mind and have you miming the great harmonica player you once dreamed you'd become. 'The Clearing' is unquestionably Beatles territory a la 'Lady Madonna' right down to the old style black and white vocal production. While it certainly is a blast it lacks some of the intense melody that the other tunes on 'Draw' exhibit. The piano laced 'A World Away' also has fab four leanings. Paul McCartney gets a wink of admiration and the mystique of the harmonies puts the perfect seal on a genuinely thrilling debut.

Matthew Jay's one and only album will draw you in straight away. It is rich in melody and semi-acoustic guitar riffs. Almost every song has true worth and the album is a powerful indictment of Jay's talent. Two years after recording this album Matthew Jay tragically died after a fall from his 7th floor apartment in Nottingham. He was only 24. ‘Draw’ is a fine legacy to his undisputed talent.

Rating: 6.5/10

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David Kitt had already released a mini-album that he recorded in his bedroom (if you are about to tune out, hang on it's worth it I promise you!) by the time he got around to releasing this, his proper debut. The e.p. title 'Small Moments' featured 'Another Love Song' that has attained legendary status in his hometown (Dublin) and more particularly his favourite venue, Whelan's of Wexford Street. David Kitt is the son of politician but thankfully his songs are based on more trivial matters. While Kitt grabs all the attention, some recognition must be given to his band. Diarmuid Mac Diarmada whose inspirational moments on the sax and clarinet are omnipresent on the album. Paul Smyth is the electronic wizard who has helped reshape Kitt's sound from its earthy lo-fi beginnings.

David Kitt's vocals aren't exactly unique. They resemble an modern Nick Drake (yeah another one!) and give off the impression of a master not having to reach too hard to find his range. In saying that they are wonderfully balanced and after a time they really stick in your head. Perfect for those drizzly winter mornings stuck in traffic when you're in need of a comfort fix (in other words every morning in Dublin). The album opens with 'Hope Street (Brooklyn, N.Y.)' which has been tried and tested over several years of constant gigging. It is perhaps Kitt's most obvious song, with the most primitive of beats and a circular guitar ensemble backing up the singers dried off deep fried vocals. While it might not add up to much initially, don't underestimate the power of this tune. It will lodge in your consciousness with all the accuracy of a colt 45.

Like drifting snow 'You know what i want to know' is likely to blind you to all else. There are searching brass interludes but it's the jingling guitar that Kitt's voice uses as a marker to ram the point home. At this stage you'll have noticed that most of Kitt's material runs in a loop, turning over the same ground incessantly for 4 or 5 minutes. While this doesn't sound great on paper, the reality on vinyl is close to breathtaking. While the opening 2 songs have a cock sure momentum, 'Step Outside In The Morning Light' drops down a gear. You can hear a little of Chicago in its make-up. The plinking keys and textured bleeps do upgrade the sound a little thankfully. Some tweeness and light never hurt anyone anyway. Incidentally this track originally appeared on the aforementioned 'Small Moments' e.p. in a slightly different guise.

Things go a tad atmospheric on 'Private Dance'. For once the vocals don't hog the spotlight. Instead the songs landscape is painted by a innovative approach to blending disparate sounds. It is quite short but signals where the u-bend appears in the albums direction. 'Pale Blue Light' starts out like a David Gray quick step but as Kitt introduces himself you realise first impressions can be deceiving. 'Pale Blue Light' is semi-shambolic in style, the bass is dull, the drumming is plain and the keyboard drones are unremarkable. It has a chorus of sorts but it's just too minimal to disguise the feeling of disappointment. Thankfully 'Pale Blue Light' is the lowest point on 'The Big Romance'. From there on in the recovery is remarkable. 'What I Ask' is the sound of a genius at work. With help from Sinead O'Connor and the underrated Nina Hynes 'What I Ask' blends pure harmony with a cacophony of guitar licks that could go on from now till dawn and still sound refreshing. At full tilt the song spits out diagonal shards of sounds at will, as it wilts the serene edge is masterful.

In an album with so many twists and turns it comes as no surprise that 'Strange Light' slows the pace down again. All you get is Kitt with acoustic guitar while Smyth throws in an array of electronic bleeps and skirmishes. 'Whispers Return The Sun' comes at the tail end of 'Strange Light' before it has fully bid farewell. Once again the ante and the quality is raised. There is a cosy familiar feel to the way the words are delivered but the melody is heaven sent. The xylophone moments are inspired, in fact the song could provide the soundtrack to the most precious moment you experience next Christmas. 'You And The City' could easily to bracketed into several different genres such is the disparity of sounds at work. Just as it seems to have carved out a thread, it completely changes tact. The unnerving violin screeches, the blisteringly catchy keys, the sunken vocal emotions and a dozen shades of atmospheric last stands make up a remarkable lavish opus.

At the end 'Into The Breeze' is left with a lot of work to tie up all the loose ends. In some ways it proves to be the albums most consistent song. There is a start, a middle and an end. Building with each new layer of spiritualised organic manoeuvres it is hard to quell the feeling of absolute happiness that the song embellishes. Appropriately the fuzzy electric's are superseded by Kitt himself. The Big Romance sits easily beside the better Irish Records released in the new millenium. Laidback has rarely been this inventive, this is the perfect soundtrack for those fragile small moments. Forget there's a big bad world outside, this is the CD equivalent of an open hearth fire.

Rating: 9/10

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