Music

They’re commonly seen as an alt.country band, but that sells Lambchop well short. How to label a singer with a voice rough as a burlap sack and soft as fresh-picked cotton, who helms a band that favours the deep soul of Curtis Mayfield and Marvin Gaye and the lugubrious, down-tempo pop of Randy Newman? Whose gorgeous orchestrations can adopt a warm, Philly swing or swell to encompass lonely, panoramic vistas? Whose songs are both sacred in respect for their subjects and hilariously profane in their detailing of daily life? Calling singer-songwriter Kurt Wagner the Raymond Carver of country lounge soul might help, but really, Lambchop are in a field of their own.

‘Damaged’ is Wagner’s most personal album yet, although what has prompted his soul searching – and apparent sadness – it’s impossible to tell. He may mention walking the dog, a sinkful of dishes and a woman brushing out her braids, but the stories behind these snapshots remain untold. ‘The Rise And Fall Of The Letter P’ in particular makes conjecture tempting, but part of Lambchop’s casual charm is their lyrical subtlety and musical lightness of touch. Explicitness is for hod carriers and whores and the ’Chop are neither. Despite that title, ‘Damaged’ is damn near perfect.