I’ll level with you readers, I find social networking somewhat of a struggle. Over the past decade I’'e tried tuning in to MySpace; bounced in - and then quickly out again - of Bebo; poked around on Facebook; mixed in the refined circles of Google+; turned my nose up at Tumblr and lastly tried talking twaddle on Twitter. Inevitably though they all fall by the wayside because essentially I’m a bit of a dick! (Your most accurate review to date! - Ed) For normal, well-adjusted people however (like all you lovely folk), the world of communication has never offered so many avenues to explore; all of which, implausibly, you can hold the access point to, quite literally, in the palm of your hand - and it's a normal sized hand at that, not a big floppy foam finger type thing!
Yet for all the convenience and numerous merits of texting, tweeting, video chat or teleporting (roll out due late spring!) one thing new media has yet to railroad into redundancy is the intimacy - no, NOT the Snapchat variety - or sweetness of sentiment bundled up in receiving some good old fashioned personalised snail mail. The knowledge that someone has made time amongst the deluge of distractions a day throws in their path, to hand scrawl their thoughts on a letter or card destined for your fingers is a heart-warming, and on occasion, humbling pleasure, that would be a lamentable loss if consigned to the annals of human interaction.
Listening to debut single 'A House', it's tempting to wonder if it was this essence of meaningful connection that Manchester's Joss Worthington was deliberately aiming to foster when he adorned his one man project with the curiously emotive title Postcards From Jeff. To that end, if it was the motivation, then his gently drawled and nasal vocal style does little to throw his mission off course, lending itself ably to a wistful note that speaks of absent love and storms to be weathered. Don't however, take that to mean that this is a dreary or maudlin affair, because while Worthington may keep his singing lo-fi and unfussy, that only helps to draw attention to the way the remaining elements of the track glisten. Conga style drums pad out a back-beat and a piano plays its part from the margins, adequately ensuring ample space up front for a nautical harr of instruments to paint a swirling soundscape, one that comes off a little reminiscent of that spirited up by Filter when they were caught staring down the lens on 'Take A Picture'.