Turin Brakes JackInABox (Source) The latest offering from London-based folk-pop duo Ollie Knights and Gale Paridjanian is characterised by its unfailing ability to fade into the background. Try as you might to devote your full attention to the 12 songs that comprise this set, it's fairly certain that your concentration will not be held for anywhere near the album's duration. Not that this is a shock. The band's previous albums, 2001's The Optimist LP and 2003's Ether Song, were not known for their electrifying intensity, but for their delicate melodies, intricate guitars and subtle charm. Described variously as being part of the 'New Acoustic' and quiet-core movements, alongside the likes of The Kings of Convenience and Alfie, Turin Brakes are adept at creating atmospheric tracks tinged with an ephemeral beauty that manage to fade from memory almost as soon as they end. Admittedly, repeat listens reveal aspects that it would be easy to miss on first play, but it's not the kind of album you are likely to find yourself humming later. Exceptions to this are the playful title track, the sunny Californian pop of opener They Can't Buy the Sunshine, the surprisingly upbeat Red Moon and the airy James Taylor-esque ballad Above the Clouds. While they lack the invention and lyrical ingenuity of peers such as Badly Drawn Boy, their predilections for American folk and country and western music help shape their sound into something, if not quite unique, then easily recognisable. Distinctive too are Knights' strainingly sweet vocals, although he has a tendency to sound like Starsailor's James Walsh when his voice rises above its usual hush. Particularly inspiring or spectacular it's not, but you'd be hard pushed to find a better accompaniment to a Sunday morning spent reading the paper over breakfast.