A sense of remorse and longing burbles underneath the surface, and it is this omniscient presence that drives the album.
The ex-frontman of Perth-via-London dark horses Snowman, Joe McKee has risen from that band's ashes to travel down a solo route, emerging with his debut Burning Boy. Opening with Lunar Sea, it becomes evidently clear which elements of Snowman's oeuvre were resolutely his. Gone are the menacing, propulsive rhythms, in their place ghostly orchestral washes and breathy vocals that occasionally informed that band's quieter moments and more overtly informed their third and final record Absence. But it isn't an easy listen – the coalescing strings, echoing synth and background chatter is an aural overload.
The title track pares things back and offers us the Joe McKee of today – somewhat listless, unsure of his place in the world, as his return to his hometown of Perth would attest. It's a hauntingly reflective piece that meanders around the plaintive guitar lines and McKee's theatrical whispers. Single Darling Hills is more about being disconnected from the places and people that shaped you, a motif that informs the majority of the album. Immaculately composed, Burning Boy is an album that doesn't hurry, its measured meandering tempo causing the album to become one long languorous track, a score of McKee's introspections. A sense of remorse and longing burbles underneath the surface, and it is this omniscient presence that drives the album.
That said, a shift in mood or pace would have made the listening journey a more interesting one – there is only so often you can travel in the one direction at the one speed before the landscape blurs into nothingness. McKee's musicianship is majestic, his lyrics sharp, with Burning Boy providing the soundtrack for one man's internal journey that hopefully leads to happier realms.