Mt. Desolation Mt. Desolation Review

The side-project of the successful musician is a tricky beast. It's usually relaxed, free of the usual creative and financial pressures, sometimes to the point of indolence. But it can be almost painfully earnest as established figures try to shrink themselves back into little guys, striving for the honesty and humility of the pub stage and pretending to be strangers to the shiny fatness of the stadium. Tim Rice-Oxley co-founded the enormously massive Keane, and his scurry into an alt-country corner with Mt. Desolation, alongside bandmate Jesse Quin, sounds almost like therapy. Only a bit less whiny.

Mt. Desolation's debut is deliberately simple and low-key almost to the point of inaudibility, and there's no trace of the bigger band to be heard to an extent which may or may not be self-conscious. It's almost anonymous, with guest spots from members of Mumford & Sons, Noah and the Whale, The Killers and others blending in without a peep. There's a whisper of Crowded House, but more Tim Finn's solo stuff than Neil's – pretty and accomplished, but only occasionally moving.

Rice-Oxley and Quin share vocals, and both sound a little shy. The songs are wistful and familiar – Annie Ford follows Mr. Tambourine Man like a faithful mutt. State of Our Affairs is sparse and moody, the echo-backed vocals bringing to mind Richard Hawley, or maybe even self-titled-era Blur. There are intermittent, effortlessly harmonising female vocals which are welcome – Jesse's mother Charity Quin immediately upping the country quotient of any song she features in by a good 40% (it could only be more country if it had suede fringing and four failed marriages).

The ‘Midnight Ghost’ is a doleful shuffle through America, with mention of California and Arizona – the kind of words the music is crying out for and seems to snuggle in to. It's a bit knowing, but sweet. My My My is perhaps the best track and worth waiting for, apparently set to a ticking clock, wrapped in sighing harmonica and elegiac violin. The production is fittingly delicate and unfussy, with no oppressive effects but also, wisely, no torn-down tin-bath anti-production meant to lend authenticity like a scrub-down with wire wool is meant to lend authenticity to a table. It's a little hokey and cosy, but it's cute.