Whether it’s a sign we are not yet out of the recession, or an indication of a brand new thrifty logic by artists, it’s clear from many of the independent artists of late that a scaled-back acoustic approach scores a more pleasing response from their audience. The likes of Bat For Lashes, and her lavish production credits are a tad out of sync with the vaguely insolvent status of many a British soul, and whilst not obscene by any means, her extravagances are a painful reminder of how we were arrived in this crisis in the first place. Not so Tom McRae’s latest effort, ‘Alphabet of the Hurricanes’, which like Kathryn Williams and Turin Brakes’ new releases plies a more frugal, acoustic trade, laying emphasis on Tom’s gifts as a songwriter and his freedom to soar. ‘American Spirit’, ‘Still We Love’, ‘Can’t Find You’ and swansong, ‘Fifteen Miles Down River’ rarely rise about the purr of a plaintive whisper and the loose, idle strumming of a solitary guitar. In many ways it’s a little like dredging a lake; sure there’s things in there that make it more interesting, an old bike, some bottles and cans, but without them it flows more freely, and more pure. The travelling motif may provide the record’s desultory focus, but the shuffling rhythms and drones of more lively scores like of songs like ‘Please’ offer an uplifting docking platform for Tom’s more spirited ambitions. There’s no hold-ups, no traffic, no snags. British airpsace is very much open again.
Like his rootsy, folk contemporaries Merz, Ben Christophers and T.D Lind, McRae offers a lattice of cheerfully eccentric arrangements bedecked with the simplest of pleasures. Nothing good lasts forever, but whilst it does last, treasure it. 
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