There’s a slick but rootsy groove to this album that seeps through it from the start, like tuning into a classic American FM station in the seventies. However, instead of being awash with sickly nostalgia and derivativeness, it instead exudes a warm, breezy charm, the likeability of which is inescapable. There is a plaintive sense of straightforwardness here – the songs are primitive compositions, often nothing more than acoustic guitar and drums – but it doesn’t feel lacking or vacant, simply unadorned and inviting. And there’s a country twang that rings loud through its core of, giving it a further sense of ease and honesty. There’s nothing ‘strange’ about this moosic at all, but while often restrained, Herman Dune have created a record that is sincere in its affability, and rewarding in its endeavours.

By Daniel Dylan Wray

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