Carthage is unsure of whether he is lost or found

As we descend begrudgingly into the autumnal months, the sweet and simple sounds of the summer slowly give way to more serious affairs. With the shortening of the days comes a darkening of the daily disposition as the soul begins to nurture a penchant for the introspective.

Such a shift in demeanour will undoubtedly benefit Dublin-based multi-instrumentalist Carthage, set to release his debut solo album The Lost and Found this month. With lyrical themes as expansive as social breakdown, mortality and religious hypocrisy, the collection could well be the perfect soundtrack for those pensive nights devoted to contemplating the human condition.

A casual perusal of the album’s liner notes confirms the calibre of its supporting cast, with Dave Keegan (Bellx1) bringing a machine-like precision to the rhythm section and guitarist Anto Drennan (Genesis) lending a well-trained ear to proceedings. Produced by Pat Donne (Paddy Casey, Tim Wheeler) and mastered by Muse maestro Fergal Davis (Black Holes & Revelations), The Lost and Found racks up enough accolades on paper to arrest the attention of any self-respecting music fan.
 

His sound strikes a balance between the melancholic meanderings of Radiohead and the orchestral, synthesised style of Muse. First track “Hang ‘em Higher” is a veritable tour de force, lulling the listener with its initial soliloquy only to explode out of the echo chamber into a fiery rock opus. The dialogue between the guitar and vocals reveals the depth of Carthage’s range as he soars effortlessly from a serrated snarl to falsetto highs seen only in the likes of Matt Bellamy. While there is something to be said for ‘putting one’s best foot forward’, the opener sets a standard which subsequent songs struggle to replicate.

On “Sunset Rise”, his elongated enunciations recreate the nuances of The Cure’s Robert Smith. The melancholic keys of the piano connive in the background with a persistent and penetrating staccato as the hauntingly sustained notes from the organ rise to the forefront. The absence of a memorable hook however lets the melody pass by amicably without leaving a lasting impression on the listener. 

“Lock up your soul” uses a particularly heavy call and response structure, shifting relentlessly from an acoustic refrain to a jagged, metallic reply. While the vocals possess a certain charm in their own right, the message becomes entangled in this electric labyrinth.

Closing track “Night Light” opens with an enveloping filter, engulfing the listener in the song’s theme of helplessness. Carthage’s acute use of voice effects here creates an aberrant and uncanny atmosphere separate from one’s comfort zone. While the album tends to turn too frequently to the soft/heavy variation, it’s successfully implemented here to connect the music with the lyrical content. 

The album’s subtlety emerges simultaneously as its greatest strength and potential downfall. Consecutive spins reveal the level of detail invested in crafting each track, with each instrument contributing an alluring colour to the spectrum of sound.
 

However, the mark of a successful song is its ability to infiltrate the inner consciousness of its listener; something which is sadly missing from this record. In lacking an unforgettable set of hooks, the album runs the risk of losing the attention of its audience before it ever begins to exhibit its elusive, yet elegant elements.

The Lost and Found is a finely-tuned collection, teeming with tonal textures but devoid of instantly memorable characteristics. The final question is whether you see your musical journey as a crusade or a comfortable commute.

John Ryan