Initially, Soft Spot seems very much in sync with Clem Snide’s quizzically gorgeous, chamberesque efforts, Your Favorite Music and The Ghost Of Fashion, but the differences are no less striking for being subtle.
Cello, prevalent on those records, appears on only two tracks here; instead, Jason Glasser’s lollipop licks on synths and organs pour down the melodic sunshine. Electric and acoustic guitars, tenderly played as one might stroke a sleeping cat, rock only selectively, as on the twangly “Action” and “Happy Birthday”, a delightful gift to leader Eef Barzelay’s son, who gets blessed with the line, “Half-jewish boys make kickass drummers.”
The clearest sign of growth, however, is the gentle, sure-handed, jazzy swing of drummer Eric Paull and bassist Brendan Fitzpatrick. Both play with a deceptively spare and light touch; rhythmically, they somehow do more by playing less.
In other words, they precisely complement Barzelay’s dreamy amateurism, his almost spiritual devotion to everyday intimacies: taking off one’s shoes, sipping iced tea, sniffling at the onset of a cold, lip-syncing a melody, blowing smoke rings — those moments lovers and family share that “no one can see” but are all the more real in their secrecy.
As sentimental a singer as he is a lyricist, Barzelay’s throaty, half-spoken phrasing is full of wonder, a blinking sense of surprise at the strange but affecting notes he hits. On Soft Spot, that sense — the delicate discoveries in a delay-drenched guitar, a cherry swirl organ, tingling brushes on snare, whispered lines like “Steal the honey from killer bees/Find love then give it all away” — is infectious, expansive, and sparkling.
