The third album from Australian group
the Panics garnered them an ARIA (an Australian equivalent to the Grammy) for best adult contemporary album for a reason. The band constantly moves through new territories, defying a simple definition or a simple parallel to another band. However, they do so while maintaining an excellent, intriguing sound. Frontman Jae Laffer gives a husky delivery that swoons just a bit here and there over the top of a layer of guitar and drums, an occasional bit of keyboard inflection, and depending on the song, a bit of classic Motown-style strings (occasionally replaced by a synth version nostalgic for the Motown sound). The album opens with perhaps the most Motown-heavy piece, handclaps and strings triumphantly announcing the group's entrance. The strings are a little less Motown and a little more
Coldplay in "Ruins," and bent a little toward Asian pop in "Creaks." Still, the band itself provides a steady, strong backing, and Laffer provides almost a narrative-style delivery, throaty in its timbre, breathy even. The band tells their stories, touching on the grey areas of pop, alluding to
U2 in the rhythm guitar for a moment in "Live Without." They touch on darker beach songs in "Confess," they evoke contemporary
Bob Dylan recordings in "Sundowner," with an almost weary, dim delivery but a grandiose chorus movement. The album defies a clear definition other than "adult contemporary," but it's attractive, it's catchy, and it's exploratory all at once. Definitely worth a spin or two.