Awww, bless. It’s an instinctive trigger reaction, a product of evolution, you can’t help yourself. You just want to ruffle his hair, pinch his cheeks and knit him a thick jumper. A bit like you did with uber-earnest Andrew WK, only without the pity, regret and grease left between your fingers. Because Tim Burgess has never been a proper frontman. Like The Charlatans have always been derided for existing on the fringes of this and that, Tim’s never shaken off the image of funny-faced mop-haired wannabe. He’s the fat kid with blisters who turns up to football practice believing he can belt it like Beckham despite the chorus of unanimous giggles every time he wobbles towards the ball. For he has a voice that was never actually meant to sing. But against odds he’s made it do just that. He missed whatever Ian Brown and Shaun Ryder tapped into to make them massively iconic, but acquired a near-anonymity that allowed him to find his feet. And those feet then carried him to his now-home LA, Americana and the field of his dreams.
Many have titled songs, albums, poems, ditties ‘I Believe’, it must be one of the most overused in recorded music history, but you’re never really sure you can believe them, not all. Even if his rate of success is slightly flimsy you have no reason to doubt Tim. There’s no pretence behind this selection of songs, they’re certainly not as obscure as they could have been given that he’d already indulged a touch on The Charlatans’ last outing ‘Wonderland’, he’s following nothing but his heart here. And you really can believe that. If only he hadn’t made thousands of fans spit out their coffee simultaneously when they first heard his ‘Love Is The Key’ falsetto back in 2001, he could have really got us now, as this is drenched in it.
“I believe in the spirit, I believe in the Holy Ghost,” he begins, his voice floating high on a compact fluffy sun-kissed cloud. You can’t fault such healthy sounding contentment. For the record he also believes in the message, the city, the West Coast, miracles and everlasting love. Off the list but presumably no less recipients of his belief are Memphis soul, Southern fried blues, sun-dried country and grinning brass sections. This is no Gram Parsons mumble fest, the slinky pop song he’s perfected with his day job remains the key feature. The anthemic ‘Oh My Corazon’ and huge closer ‘All I Ever Do’ are perhaps the closest to The Charlies, full-bodied, full-lunged and organic. ‘Be My Baby’ is a dreamy acoustic trip that goes infinitely more scenic that you expect and ‘Say Yes’ is generous heavy drops of happiness, like the Four Tops on a helter skelter. If this doesn’t make you believe your dreams are within reach, nothing will.