The Vatican Cellars – The Same Crooked Worm

The Vatican Cellars’ central duo met and bonded following mutual bereavements, but there’s a frustrating lack of catharsis and depth in the songs that have emerged to form their debut album. True to their genesis, death is a pervasive theme, from the morbid implications of the Dylan Thomas-referencing title to the winter imagery of Christmas Island’s dead leaves and empty, skeletal branches, but the pulse is weak.

It’s politely tuneful but in need of something extra – grit, quirks, anything to ruffle The Vatican Cellars’ immaculate but dull plumage. Simon Hughes’ clipped and measured vocals evoke the sing-speak of any number of olde-folk troubadours, but their clarity only emphasises the occasional clunking lyric – comparing his amour to such pedestal-placed clichés as ‘pearls’ and ‘treasures’ for example. They’ve clearly got working funny bones, having recently covered Van Halen as a B-side, but they struggle to convey charisma in their own work. [Chris Buckle]