Opium
Artist: Mark Geary
Label: Sona Blast
Time: 11 Tracks / 37 mins

Geary is an Irishman who moved to America in the early nineties. When he started work two years ago on this album – which he says is “about escape and the notion of consequence” – he found himself inspired by The God Delusion and works by Robert Fisk, while finding himself concerned by people using “God phrases” on TV, such as “In God we trust” and “With God’s help we will prevail.” He felt that people were using God to justify their own sense of rightness
 
The problem with assessing the song content is that there are no lyrics with the disc (and online he considers himself “too lazy” to write them down) so I have little sympathy with him if people feel that the disc is too difficult to concentrate on long enough to get the full point of the songs. 
 
At the same time, the music is very well mixed and enjoyable as mood pieces. The tunes are wistful, with melodies that grow with each listen, accompanied by the barest instrumentation. Because of this, what we get most of is Geary’s voice – easy-going, with a touch of the Nick Drakes, but stronger. Once they are familiar, the songs are a pleasure to hear, but (and I don’t know why this should be) the tunes tend to fade from the mind once the next track has arrived. 
 
The differences between each track are slight. On the reflective “Maid of Gold” Geary’s voice takes on shades of Bob Dylan – or at least what a tuneful Dylan would sound like. “See-Saw” has a guitar feel that would make it very at ease on Jon Foreman’s seasons CDs, and the same could be said for “Always,” thanks to some lightly shuffling percussion. It is also one of the tracks that benefits from some restrained strings. As well as a few harmonies throughout, Ann Scott duets on “Facing the Fall” to add a change of sound, and a couple of times – “Tuesday” and “Angel” – Geary ups the tempo. The only track that does not fully earn its place is the shortest, “Atrophy”.
 
While this is hardly a party album, the proclaimed cynicism does not dominate the disc at all and only really comes across strongly on “The King of Swords” and the final “Wake Up” (“Wake up, get on your knees / Your prayers won’t help, there’s no reprieve / There’s nothing left, I’ve lost it here ... What are we doing here?”). He may have set out to think “about all the things we do to fill the void or the hole in us: God, money, sex, religion," but it simply feels like a well-crafted reflective disc, with no overall point to make, that gives the listener some tunes worth hearing in the process.  
 
Derek Walker