Miserable young men. Don't you just love them? They wander around in their large duffle coats, shuffling through the autumn leaves, wondering where it all went wrong. And all the time, with their walkmans and iPods firmly rooted in their depressed ears, listening to depressing music.

There are, of course, some exceptions. Sometimes, instead of listening to music, they record it. They are called, much to their disgust, Singer/Songwriters, and their names are usually Tom McRae, Ed Harcourt and Matthew Jay.

Karaoke Soul:

Now, we can add another name to the list: Chris Davidson. Produced by George Moorey, one half of the excellent Ghosting, Davidson's album, Letting Go is a sad, yet perfectly formed album of beauty and forlorn grace. It is, perhaps, the definitive sound of miserable young men kicking autumn leaves in their large duffle coats.

The songs share common themes. They are one of three things: longing pleas to get back together with a girl ("Love is a Waste of Time"), Gloomy Paeans to the death of a relationship ("Don't Waste Your Love Too Soon") or hopeful musings on the possibilities of, as yet, unrequited love ("Golden Rays").

Dynamic:

The tracks are generally quiet. Just about the right volume for miserable young men to cope with. But when they are loud (see "4 a.m. Shake Down"), they have a kick ass loudness. Precisely whose posterior is being attacked is not clear. But the rear end in question probably belongs to Chris Davidson.

Stylistically, Davidson draws on the vocals of Starsailor's James Walsh, Turin Brakes' melodies and Elliot Smith and Ryan Adams' instrumentation. For the most though, he is simply Chris Davidson.

A Polyphonic Spree:

There are violins and pianos along with the usual guitars, bass and drums. Through the wonder of multi-track technology, he duets with himself and occasionally uses multiple copies of himself as his own backing group.

Together with George Moorey, our miserable hero has become a master of melody, knowing exactly when to turn up the volume and when to keep it down, when to fill out the texture and when to keep it simple. The result is magnificent. At times, it is even majestic.

To Be Young:

Inside these songs hide fragile lyrics of a fragile mind. "I Know I'm Just a Captive of Everything I Want" runs a line in "9 o'clock on Friday Night". It's a worthy précis of an album full of tales of broken hearts and lives.

Another song ("Don't Waste Your Love Too Soon") opens with the line "I know how I want it to be/I know how it feels when she's with me/That is all" while a violin draws out a heartbreaking Celtic melody in the background. It's another classic summary of an album about simple longing for simple happiness.

Occasionally, we get an incite into what the problem with our miserable champion is. "[In] troubled times you call and I run" sings the troubled narrator in "Take Me Home". It's an acknowledgment that he has brought things on himself. Which is, maybe, why the next song is called "Rescue Me" ("The things I only dreamed of in my head are coming true").

Better, Better, Better:

The only let up is in the last track, "Golden Rays". Starting as a typically Davidson track with gentle pianos, brushes on on the drums and light picking at the steel strings of his guitar, it crescendos into something of a "Hey Jude" style anthem (unfortunately, minus the obligatory "Na na na na-neh-na-naahs").

Given its title it is, appropriately, the only ray of hope in the entire album - and a welcome one at that. After nine tracks of albeit excellent miserable songs, you cannot help but join Davidson in his optimism: "The sun will shine and life is fine/It's gonna be all right."

In Letting Go, Chris Davidson has produced something of an understated masterpiece. With lyrics, music, instrumentation and high production values all present and correct, this album is a must have for anyone who has had a broken heart.

18/10/04 - First published on www.bbc.co.uk/gloucestershire under this link