If you are looking to this In Pursuit of the Cedars (IV) to provide a heartwarming finale to the previous Unreaching the Reeds (I), The Pull of the Bulrushes (II), and Tied Up in the Vines (III) albums then this Liam Marsh (aka Kid Chameleon) release might be about to disappoint those who still have a hankering for all that is so very twee about the sentimentality of happy endings.

Perhaps the third verse of All Roses Waning (I) summates the primary ethos of the album far better that I ever could:

There’s a struggle in convincing someone that you’re a good idea
I know that in time this feeling will leave but either way you’ll be sick of the sight of me
This is an ode to lasting love, and breaking up, and feeling fucked
I know that in time these thoughts will leave but until then you’ll be sick of the sight of me

Add to the ‘futility of relationships’ (detailed above) the constant ache of unfulfilled love (as opposed to ‘lost love’, this album seems to focus more on the issues of not being able to make a potentially good relationship work due to personal weakness), as opined in the wonderful Common Ghost with the words.

I need you like the forest needs a fire
I need to leave it for a minute until I miss it
I need to know that I still know the line that separates what I’m missing from what I don’t want
What I need’s a new state of mind
-That pushes me aside
That pushes you aside and out of my sight

Musically, the album seems in a rush, as if the racing thoughts of a mind that never appear to be able to relax has so much to say within a song that the lyrics seem in danger of outlasting the available music.

The fact that he never does, though, is where the perfection of the Kid Chameleon aesthetic lies, as his fevered mind is represented by the jangled riffs within the brilliance of Far South, No Boys, All Roses and Waning, and The Ending of It All, which tumble and rebound off each other to offer the most invigorating jangly indie-pop  around at present.

Liam Marsh, in all his projects (check out Bedbound by Summer, Porcelain, and Fine), has that perfect ability to make the listener hang on every lyric, searching for a meaning that is usually partially hidden by the possibility of several interpretations.

The thinking man is jangly indie-pop remains that perfect, unfathomable last crossword clue.

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