I’ve never got the global (or is it really just Australia’s?) fascination with Ben Harper.
Before I incur the wrath of many of his disciples, I will dispel a few of the tirades.
Yes, I have heard he’s a god live, but this album isn’t live. And yes, I’ve had the opportunity to see him, but chose to avoid the swirling masses in Byron.
No, I didn’t buy the CD in the first place – my wife did.
Yes, I probably am some soulless heathen comparable to Hitler.
My problem rests on the lack of oomph here. It is all a little too slick and laid back. His voice is too high (even for a self-confessed twee-pop and soul fan) especially for the genre. The songs are infinitely predictable and just plain unmemorable.
In the end I prefer the work of his North Melbourne Football club lookalike Daniel Wells.
And so as to ensure I am condemned to eternal damnation by the Harperphiles, if I want some falsetto action I’ll head for Mr. Trent D’Arby:
File under: I’m losing it