Spilt Milk

An album that’s rewarding--and pleasantly intelligent--from start to finish. [No. 128, p.53]

His music admittedly feels a little more battle-scarred nowadays, but this world-weariness fits the LP’s resigned, roots-tinged ballads Good Enough and There It Goes like a glove.

To no-frills, English Velvet Underground-style indie pop, this seasoned, perceptive narrator also turns his gaze on dilemmas including the plight of the still-game senior rocker (Mr. Music), bewildering transience (There It Goes) and, seemingly, divorce (Good Enough), lightly wearing life experience without sacrificing impact. [Feb 2016, p.107]

This one finds him plugging in and creating a doleful jangle that often feels like a bedsit Velvet Underground fronted by Lawrence or Ray Davies. [Feb 2016, p.73]

Songs like “The Getting There” and “Mr. Music”--all of them, really--amble endearingly with clean springing chime, observational lyricism, and a melodic sensibility smoothed but not eroded by time’s passing.

Whilst sonic variety isn’t perhaps the strongest card pulled out on Split Milk, it does play out with some charming Astor songcraft and insistent hooks.

At times this feels like a celebration of what can be achieved with three chords and an earnest tale, intelligently told.

Some might sneer at its twee nature--especially in light of the extraordinariness of the recently departed, but Spilt Milk captures an ageing songwriter catching a second wind and reflecting with wit, charm and humility.