A slightly odd time then for brassy yankedoodle lass Diane Birch to attempt to convert Ford Galaxy drivers the length of this fair isle to her Bible Belt, you might say... Even more perplexing is her succinctly formulaic approach to the inevitable omnipotence her pleasantly indifferent wares are likely to garner; the preacher man’s daughter with a beguiling smile finally let loose on the chewing gum splattered gutters of SoHo, New York, eyes sparkling and heart filled to the brim with a ceaseless, relentless hope. Except she’s twenty-seven. And sounds like a lethargic hybrid of a myriad of faceless voices over backing tracks as over-worked as Dale Winton’s tangerine complexion. Fire Escape is Warwick Avenue’s long lost twin, the slightly less melancholic twin that reclines pompously in the major key as a superfluous saxophone solo wiles away unimaginatively. If they were human twins you’d annihilate dilemmas of which to lock away in the loft and just shove them both up there, quite possibly swallowing the key. New Orleans organs ooze out over Don’t Wait Up over pristine backing vocals straight out of O Brother Where Art Thou, yet Bible Belt unfortunately reeks of desperation, and moreover a desperate lack of authentication. The over-indulgent endlessness of Rewind probably wouldn’t squeeze onto a Nerina Pallot b-side collection, Valentino jangles away like Sandi Thom were she born and bred on the sycophantic inanity of California in place of Scottish drizzle and Choo Choo is one of the poorest Dusty Springfield impressions you’ll hear outside of Vegas, bolstered by tinkling honky tonk ivories even Jools bloody Holland couldn’t laud. As uninspiring a listen as Gordon Brown’s answer phone message, almost the sourest pill to swallow here is that Bible Belt isn’t actually a bad record. Jo Whiley and Edith Bowman are sure to adore it. Yet travelling on a road to a drab nowhere at the speed of a faulty Eurostar isn’t all too thrilling... Still, could probably be picked up by Mumbai-based call centres as they keep you lingering on the line whilst you tear your teeth out longing for Chasing Pavements.
