BONE - METRO REVIEW

Tim Booth's solo album, BONE, has the sort of artless, lo-fi musicality you'd expect from an album recorded with some mates in a Brighton bedroom.

Certainly, you wouldn't want to take it too seriousy: at one point Booth declares he is an ice cream. One Monkey God he rhymes fate and procreate during a metaphysical meditation that would shame even the inhabitants of Glastonbury's Field Of Avalon. It's a pity Booth is so prone to torturous mysticism: the album's loping guitar arrangements are adorned with such lovely details as percolating tabla rhythms, and effortessly stretch from the simple acoustica (Fall In Love) to baggy indie (Down To The Sea) to suggest that his ear for a tune is still healthy, even if his mind is elsewhere.