The Hobbledehoy doesn’t like this stinker from Mr. Bugg. Read the review from The Guardian. They don’t like it much either.
Five years ago, this acerbic singer-songwriter was transparently a major talent when, aged just 18, his debut album topped the UK chart and went on to go double-platinum. Inevitably, he was even hailed as the new Dylan. World domination appeared assured.
Half a decade down the line, Jake Bugg’s career trajectory is noticeably less spectacular. His record sales have slumped; there have been missteps. His third album, On My One, saw him unwisely dabbling in dance beats and even hip-hop. His latest, the country-hued Hearts That Strain, was recorded in Nashville with veteran studio musicians who backed Elvis and Wilson Pickett.
Such creative restlessness would usually be laudable, but in Bugg’s case the effect seems to have been to shear off the urgency and the rough edges that initially made him such a compelling artist [ . . . ]