ComfortComes

Review: Ben Averch – Fortune Cookie

Ben Averch is a singer songwriter not quite fitting the mould of many singer/songwriters who have come before. Sounding more like a full-on five-man assault, Averch is an act not content to finger-pick an acoustic ala Elliott Smith or Iron & Wine. Instead, he channels more challenging influences that might sound unusual for a solo act, from prog-rock kings Rush to hardcore heroes Husker Du, Averch is clearly not intimated by the weight the influences he’s taken on place on his single pair of shoulders.

So how does he measure up? For starters, the instrumentation isn’t bad and might make any prog fan at the back of the bar raise their head to get a better listen. “You Know I Need You” has a verse which burns as slowly as the riff that serves as its foundation, a solid pre-chorus riff bursting with soul and a penultimate guitar solo drenched in rapid bursts of wah-wah pedal. “Valley of Your Heart” opens with a stomping riff and “The Hook”, well, hooks the listener in with a nice little rhythm played on the high hat. Not every track is as enjoyable musically though, particularly those dominated by acoustic rather than electric guitar. Averch’s proggier, acoustic playing simply doesn’t carry as much power when contrasted with his more powerful choruses and aggressive drumming. It works somewhat as the initial driving force behind “One and the Same”, but once the electric guitar barges in its acoustic brother sounds a little misplaced.

Though the guitarwork and instrumentation generally are fairly average, it’s about the only thing that this record can be complimented for. The major problem, and the reason Fortune Cookie is a turn-off overall, is the album’s consistently lacklustre vocals. On “Love me Anyway”, Averch whines and moans his lyrics rather than sings them. On “One and the same”, the vocal delivery drips an angst that might sound at home on a Mineral record, but sounds a little immature given that this isn’t so much emo or pop-punk but rock influenced by jazz and prog. Even worse are the record’s lyrics, which simply reek of unoriginality and cliché. Averch seems to be a big fan of his eighth-grade poetry (and not even the innuendo-filled, giggle-inducing limericks), coming up with gems like “Even as these waves are breaking our love right apart” and “Like the moon chasing down the sea/I can always feel your presence pulling me”. Such mournful pining might be a little more bearable if every song didn’t follow that one monotonous theme.

While Fortune Cookie displays Ben Averch’s raw talent, if he hopes to make a truly great record he has his work cut out for him. The low quality of the vocals and lyrics detract from any real pleasure someone might get for the otherwise perfectly fine guitarwork, and it is this fact that really handicaps Averch’s ability to craft a really enjoyable album.