Noah and the Whale: 'The First Days Of Spring'

Noah and the Whale are probably best known for three things: their slightly annoying indie flick-inspired name, singer-songwriter Charlie Fink's relationship with sometime backing vocalist Laura Marling, and the chorus of top ten hit and ad man's favourite '5 Years Time'. However, since the release of last year's debut album, Peaceful, The World Lays Me Down, much has changed in the world of the Twickenham four-piece.

Fink and Marling have split up, which seems to have inspired the band's transition from strummy, acoustic anti-folk towards the string-heavy, orchestral sound of The First Days Of Spring. The band are a grander proposition now, often sounding like they're from some dust-swept town in middle America rather than Twickenham. Fink has even made a movie (included on the Deluxe Edition) to which this album is ostensibly the soundtrack, though it stands up pretty well without that visual accompaniment. However, what the split certainly has influenced is the lyrical content of the album; this is an unashamed break-up record, soaked alternately in melancholy, hope and a little self-pity.

Opener 'The First Day Of Spring' sets the tone with its shimmering statement of both regret and self-belief ("For I do believe that everyone has one chance / To f**k up their lives / But like a cut down tree, I will rise again / And I'll be bigger and stronger than ever before"). Other standouts are lead single 'Blue Skies' and the does-what-it-says-on-the-tin 'My Broken Heart' ("Broken hearts are a fickle thing and complicated too / I thought I believed in love but I've never seen it through").

Interestingly, the record is deliberately structured in three parts, with the beginning and end separated by the incongruously quirky 'Love Of An Orchestra' and two instrumentals. The former, with its rather awkward chorus, drags you out of the moment somewhat, but it's a brief aberration before 'Stranger' returns you to the navel-gazing introspection of the rest of the record.

Perhaps inevitably given the subject matter, some of the songs ('Our Window', 'I Have Nothing', 'Slow Glass') tend to meander touch too much in their moping. When Fink sings a line like "I loved you back then / But I don't recognise you now", the impulse to empathise is overwhelmed, not for the first time, by the urge to tell him to man up. Overall though, the emotion seems sufficiently genuine and the music more than strong enough to support what could have ended up as something very drippy indeed.