Josh Pyke - Josh Pyke - Only Sparrows (Album)

Acclaimed Sydney-sider Josh Pyke returns with his third album, Only Sparrows, presenting a unique conflict within the career of the singer-songwriter. Concerning Pyke’s 2007 debut, Memories And Dust, it was interesting to note more than a few allusions to anguish and aspiration. The likes of Mannequins and Fed And Watered suggested an artist wrestling with the idea recognition, depicting Pyke’s early uphill-climb as an artist. much was at stake. Fittingly, in a wonderful twist of irony, these songs alongside Memories And Dust’s singles would finally propel Pyke into the limelight. It’s follow-up, Chimney’s Afire, offered more of the same with a striking commercial prowess in tow. The album, as a result, successfully avoided succumbing to any dreaded ‘difficult-second-album’ tag.

Three years have passed since Chimney’s Afire and the direction of Pyke’s musical endeavours has altered, if only slightly, as illustrated through Only Sparrows. The thing to note about this new album is an intriguing juxtaposition: in appearing, at long last, comfortable, Pyke has inevitably crafted a record marked by immense risk. Only Sparrows offers a fraction of the commercial allure of its predecessors, an element set to make or break its success with listeners.

The album boasts an auspicious beginning. The captivating Clovis' Son is found adrift, its dreamy acoustic-led angst awakening a fiery inquisition. Though the chorus seeks to steal the spotlight in a song intimate and patient, the verses illustrate Pyke's formidable song craft, boasting the immediate melodic precision of a nursery rhyme. The song displays Pyke at his finest. Similarly, the uptempo No One Wants A Lover is vintage Pyke and a fine choice for first single. The song demonstrates a chipper, pulsating optimism wrapped up in an epiphany, imbuing the album with its first slice of pop gold. However, as per previous allusions, it has little company where its staying-power is concerned.

The reasons for this prove somewhat elusive, given - despite a sonic evolution and an instrumentally dense album - so many of Pyke’s hallmarks are still in place. He remains a wily wordsmith, ever-capable of spinning obscure yet compelling sentiments. Of course, there are moments in which Pyke mystifies. “All the music in the world is a swimming pool, on the top of the tallest building, bubbling up to a boil on the water, peeling off those echoing walls,” he sings on Factory Fires. Meanwhile, there are some intriguing propositions across the album, including most notably Punch To The Heart, featuring Pyke’s collaboration with Little Birdy’s Katy Steele. However, aside from the occasional highlight, listeners can expect to receive a dilute output without the punch or fanfare evident of earlier work. Whereas Memories And Dust and Chimney’s Afire exuded an effortless charm, Only Sparrows struggles and works overtime to attain any affection.

On the whole, Only Sparrows presents an uncompromising, introspective confessional. Though fans and followers of Pyke’s work will likely embrace the calling-cards of his craft - all of which return here - the record bears no strong advertisement to those casually acquainted with the singer-songwriter’s work. All in all, Only Sparrows is a relatively enjoyable album, but certainly emerges the least essential body of work of Pyke’s catalog to date.

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