BC Camplight

BC Camplight makes me think of Mull Historical Society and later period Beach Boys or, latterly, Ben Kweller. Those are the obvious comparisons. Like Todd Rundgren, he seems primarily obsessed with the perfect pop album, as defined by the aforementioned Beach Boys. Sounds swirl, high harmonies float, simple melodies are picked out on piano and reiterated by strings. There is a gravitas of tribute to high art and a reaching to the stars in imitation. Still, I feel the hesitation in my soul that says ďthis is, however beautiful, to some degree, a homage, a pasticheĒ. Donít get me wrong, I love this dearly, especially when it strays briefly off the track, like in Soy Tonto, into cheesy samba, but it reminds me of too many other things. This is the creation of Brian Christinzo, a mere 25 years old and a personal work of faith. Following on from the beautiful and troubled Hide, Run Away, he has sought to continue his individual track with a set of songs drawn from the life tales of people hard-pressed and downtrodden. Well, itís a tiny change from the last albumís hints of murder and incestÖ.

This album has seen daily playings at Vanguard Towers since its arrival, the polished pop workings taking us to memories of individualists like Prefab Sproutís Paddy Macaloon. So how does Brian manage to garner the individualist tag and wear the tribute artist hat? Itís being soaked in the masters of this style till everything he writes comes out in the idiom. He just canít help it, itís the air he breathes. His very thoughts are couched in beats and choruses and key changes. The album comes out as fully imagined, a dream he woke up from and remembered. The auditory hallucination reaches from a half-remembered pop past to a dystopian future and is now available for you to share. Welcome to Planet Camplight.

Ross McGibbon