Liverpudlian proponents of gentle twee-rock sincerity, the Cranebuilders have apparently had a UK following before crossing the Atlantic via this stateside Azra/Massive Music release. This quintet features a frontman who favors singing near the very bottom of his register, much in the manner of an upbeat Lou Reed. The band display touches of Spacemen 3, early Sisters of Mercy and This Mortal Coil (in order of strength) throughout their sad odes to young love, lust, loss and awkwardness.

This 20-song CD (including 8 bonus tracks) overall is deceptively American-sounding, indeed even more so than anything recorded by the Red House Painters, whose glacial tempos and moods they affect with only a fraction of the brooding venom. It's all the more surprising that this band do not tap into their rich English tradition of liturgical vocal harmonies. Their female singer only seems capable of following along in unison, rendering the vocal deliveries as flat as cardboard cut-outs. This disappointing trait casts a pall over otherwise bright spots such as "So What Could I Do" and "Morning Cup" (the latter of which is just funky and driving enough to be saved from cringe-worthy descriptions of "sweet surrender"). She only manages to harmonize once, slightly, in track 9, "She Can't Find the Words." The best, most sublime and transcendent moment is track 11, "Advanced Directive," with its haunting, Spacemen-like 2-chord vamp.

I hate resorting to stereotypes, but with this CD the Cranebuilders fail to take more advantage of the wealth of native influence all around them, and have a lot more to answer to than they bother with. And so compared to most of their predecessors, who were much better at the English art of making dreary, drab, bleak existence sound cool, here they come up short.