Only Mirrors

Singer/songwriter Drew Andrews' debut solo effort Only Mirrors is a hauntingly reflective and guttingly bittersweet album. Acoustic at the core, Andrews' sound is nonetheless layered with strings, xylophone, vocal harmonies, and various electric instruments. Combined with Andrews soft burnished croon, the result brings to mind a mix of the organic '70s soft rock of Bread and moody '80s college rock of the Smiths. In that sense, Andrews also draws nice comparisons to such contemporaries as journeyman Canadian bard Ron Sexsmith and the sympathetically minded Brit Ed Harcourt. Tracks like the delicately ominous title cut, the measured midtempo ballad "I Could Write a Book," and the meditative and circular "Counterfeit" with their swirling arpeggios of doubt and ennui are perfect bundles of indie-chamber pop and work well as soundtracks to dorm room dramas and various scenes of personal regret. Similarly, the more folk-inflected moments like the supple "Angeli" and gently rambling "Hospitals Again" are beautifully simple and deftly cinematic tracks that find Andrews moving into ever more varied and even slightly psychedelic soundscapes. Primarily, while Andrews has an obvious knack for Baroque and expertly orchestrated Beatlesque pop, he never over does it, and instead has crafted a subtle, tasteful, and deeply moving album. Only Mirrors is the kind of debut that sinks into your soul and catches you staring off into space. As the title implies, Andrews' talent is no smoke and only mirrors.