By RUSSELL BAILLIE
Herald rating: * * * *
If the prolonged stateside excursion behind Greg Johnson's latest indicated this was going to be his big, slick, shiny American number - the record to capitalise on all the Coldplay comparisons - then something has gone terribly wrong.
The Auckland singer-songwriter has gone and made another identifiably Greg Johnson album. Or that's how it seems at first. A couple of listens and it's apparent he's made the Greg Johnson album - the best of his six studio efforts, and the one which best captures his piano-based grown-up pop tunesmithery and wry lyrics.
Across the 10 tracks the choruses are a little more pronounced, its moods a little more consistently upbeat, and there's an infectious warmth to how the whole thing sounds.
That's helped by the lovely timbre of the ivories he tickles, and the harmonies and playing of guitar offsider and occasional co-writer Ted Brown.
His time in Los Angeles might explain the surfeit of people called "Angel" which Johnson addresses in his songs. But the Californian experience also seems to manifest itself in a bracket of breezy choruses which suggest top-down drives to Santa Somewhere.
There's a bunch of those up front on It's Been So Long, Standing Under Starlight and the piano-thumping ballad Save Yourself - the last one is so brazenly infectious you suspect Johnson's people should slip a tape to Robbie's people. Stadiums around the world will be pleased.
Elsewhere, it goes pleasantly sappy and sexy in Love In the Air, then waltzes with regret on Don't Be the One, which with Lose You Girl and If You Think it's Over make a trio of elegant heart-breakers.
But it stops short of turning into a maudlin marathon by going all pop-giddy on the uptempo Kiss Me, and later heading into Nick Cave territory on the quietly menacing Handles of Pearl.
If at the end, the very R.E.M.-ish No Love Wasted is something of an anti-climax, it still caps off a fine album. One which shows that Johnson - six albums down and a best-of collection already marking a substantial if often overlooked legacy in New Zealand pop - just might be hitting his stride.
(Capitol)
<i>Greg Johnson:</i> Here Comes the Caviar
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