Obi - 'Diceman Lopez' (Cooking Vinyl)
4/5
By: Kevin Molloy
Going for concept on your second release (when the first was only eight tracks long to start with) is a risky business. But it's one that Obi have pulled off near-flawlessly. How on Earth the transition has been made, we're not quite sure, but may we present to you, the new Latino-indie-country-Britpop melodniks from Shepherds Bush... as they're really, really good.
From the outset, the songs have a wistful, dreamy quality. Damin Katkhuda, as singer/songwriter/matador, captures you with his pure, slightly husky and entirely unaffected vocals, whilst acoustic guitars weave melodiously appealingly backdrops, boding a distinct Spanish flair. Whilst your listening pleasure is unadulterated, it's clear that this is a work of love, and has been rehearsed, honed and produced to subtle perfection. Take the opening track, 'Fairground'; it starts with sparsely rhythmical acoustic chords and voice, but as you sink into relaxation, electric guitars swoop into the mix, prompting Katkhuda's melody to soar, drums picking up pace, before the whole is suddenly submerged into the ethereal once more for the start of 'Creatures'.
Yet despite such cautious treatment, the album still feels spontaneous and organic. Studio laughter can be heard in the veritably wonderful country-pop 'Chewing At My Soul', and every scratch and slide upon the gorgeous acoustic in 'Time Alone Will Tell' is left audible. The whole thing feels so honest. Even the most stonehearted of listeners will be led along by the huge well of emotion that Katkhuda exudes in his longing for, and complete belief in, some form of better place or afterlife.
And it's this which actually forms the loose theme for many of the songs. Lyrically, the collection runs themes of gold, death and light through every piece. The first track has Katkhuda singing that 'gold will fall out of this song', later 'The Sweetest Silver' sees him realise that gold (or money) isn't quite everything, while the final track, 'Plague on This House' has an elderly person with gold raining down around them, but no use for it. But there still remains some optimism, as he sings, 'They will pay you for what you do in the end.' As such, the whole thing feels like an attempt to deal with the loss of somebody dear, and a resolution of faith; thus, the continued inspiration and eminence is phenomenal - there are very few today who could create something that feels this unified, and utterly compelling.
From the tear-jerking 'Sleep Well Dear Friend' to the melancholy of 'Plague on This House' and through the gentle, rambling musings of 'Time Alone Will Tell', 'Diceman...' proves it has more up its patchwork sleeve than the joyous opening songs, but never loses the vibrancy of its earlier more character-based vignettes ('Incredible Jack', 'The Tale of Old Rodriguez'); a majesty swells as it closes, all of the initial energy turned inside out, as you slowly sink into a voice with feelings so sincerely portrayed they could be your own.
Seemingly, Obi have gambled a lot on the successful reception of something quite so finely and understatedly crafted as 'Diceman Lopez', but there is not a weak ember on this album, their biggest problem going to be topping something quite this good. Personally, we can't wait to see them try.
Artists in this article: Obi
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