Hayden: In Field & Town

What makes for a compelling break-up story? The people it concerns do not necessarily have to be extraordinary, the blowout doesn't have to be world-changing. No, in the tale of the time things went wrong we look for simple truths. Truths which will tell us about the ache of being human, the frailty of that condition and how strength can be mustered to carry on.

We look for clues in the simple details, the memories embedded in the routine and the person coming to terms with their new-found status in the singles queue.

Hayden - the recording name of Canada's Paul Hayden Desser - makes many basic mistakes in his take of the topic. Firstly, he is far too concerned with the "what's" and the "where's" of the situation, rarely delving into the "why's" and the "how's". For most of the record he sets himself as the third person, merely commenting on events in a detached manner. "I wake up lonely and go to bed the same way/People they call me just to make sure I'm O.K." he laments on Damn This Feeling, finding yet another visual image to reinforce his isolation without necessarily giving insight into the workings of his mind.

The same song also features another prominent flaw: his self-pity. "Women adored me for the sad look in my eyes/And now they ignore me for getting on with my life" he swoons; Expecting us to feel pity for him that he no longer gets the attention he so much desires. While the protagonist being objective and impartial is such a tale, you cannot help but get the impression that Desser believes that he is above reproach for the way things went awry. He is the victim and as such rarely makes self-deprecating comments. All of which makes for a tepid, one-sided lyrical content which lacks humour, insight and more importantly, empathy.

His lone song which breaks the mould of the lovelorn is Lonely Security Guard. We must preface this paragraph with the insistence that we are neither exaggerating nor inventing this synopsis. The song details the titular character and his penchant for origami. Yet despite his interest in his hobby, disappointment is still expressed that the man retains the ability to do his job. What we basically grasp from the concept: is that tough guys have feelings too, but they can still beat you to a pulp. An important lesson if there ever was one, and surely one which requires a four-minute-thirty-second song to its cause.

Desser's vocals inherit the same traits as well. While being perfectly sumptuous in their tonality, they consistently appear aloof, overtly affected and with an annoying disposition for vocalisations. (That process whereby singers turn one syllable into ten and proceed to explore the entire tonal scale with it) It is also steeped in the same melodrama which overpowers In Field & Town.

While unlikely to be declared 'groundbreaking', Desser's varied and powerful compositional side shines brilliantly throughout the album, although echoing many other artists throughout. More Than Alive sounds repeatedly like it's teetering on the brink of breaking out into Total Eclipse of the Heart and Worthy of Your Esteem practically invokes the spirit of The Sleepy Jackson with its mournful, yet determined acoustic guitar, the pondering synths striving for freedom and the powerful, unrelenting drums. There is the occasionally hiccup along the way; The Van Song is frighteningly dated in its style, struggling to maintain anything more that an air of coy pastiche throughout its thankfully brief running time.

The simple is what he excels at. The quiet, unassuming examples of The Hardest Part and More Than Alive never seek to explore anything more than their fleeting, rueful sentimentality, and are all the better for it. As for the rest of it, the prominent feeling is of one glancing at an incomplete landscape, lacking colour, depth and warmth. The detail is still present, but it needs some more work to make it truly memorable.