Parsons’ second offering is a quiet, intimate experience and its rich sparseness demands attention. You won’t be left wanting, but you’ll be aching for more from the man himself.
Some artists wear their influences proudly on their sleeves. Melbourne-via-Brisbane singer-songwriter Dan Parsons is one of them. When the bearded lad's debut Firestarter, produced by John Castles (Washington, The Bamboos) hit the shelves in 2010, ghosts of 1970s folk greats littered its tracks. But with the liberating freedom that only an old-school four-track can bring, Parsons' self-titled sophomore release celebrates a more intimate homage to his cited influences, like James Taylor (an inevitable comparison) and a stripped-back, organic approach to album production. It's as gently absorbing as it is powerful.
There are a number of different elements at play here that make this far more than just another folk album to be loved and shelved. Parsons possesses genuine warmth for his genre of choice and it's more than evident, particularly in Americana-tinged opener Old Man/Young Man. If the title itself isn't evocative enough, Parsons' quiet energy behind his feather-light, clear-cut vocal bleeds through more than just the speakers. His dedication in playing and recording most of the instruments has resulted in a clarity of purpose throughout not only the album but straight through the songs themselves. With so many lines at work in Oh Baby, When You Say It Like That, Parsons maintains a firm grip on sections that could become unwieldy without smothering the life out them. Rather, he breathes life into well-worn paths, amping up in Lay It All Down and donning his auteur hat in the lush, reflective meanderings of Shoalhaven Night.
Parsons' second offering is a quiet, intimate experience and its rich sparseness demands attention. You won't be left wanting, but you'll be aching for more from the man himself.