Yngve & The Innocent are the folk-pop equivalent of a Cheese String. There's nothing inherently awful about them, and they have some redeeming qualities, but at the same time they're a little too bland and a little too processed, and they leave you hungry for something with more flavour and character. Why bother with Yngve's Cheese Strings when you could be eating Conor Oberst's rich, pleasantly sickly stilton or Iron & Wine's extravagant and versatile gorgonzola? At least - to conclude the most thinly-stretched metaphor you'll read all week - they're more palatable than James 'Dairylea Dunkers' Blunt.
'Draw A Line' contains very little that hasn't been done elsewhere. It features the same gently strummed guitar, the same hackneyed piano, and the same pseudo-profound lyrics delivered in the same keening voice that you'll have heard on scores of similar songs. One suspects that the band's artistic ambitions will be fulfilled if they manage to wheedle a spot on the soundtrack to a Zach Braff film. It's grey, by-the-numbers fare played by musicians who are content to sound dully competent.
The lyrics are especially indicative of the band's weaknesses. Yngve wheels out uninspiring clich's such as 'you can float down the river/or swim the other way' and 'I guess all people are different' as if he was tossing gleaming gems of wordsmithery to his grateful public. There are no personal insights or unusual turns of phrase, nothing to distinguish this lot from all the other bands who deal in empty attempts to sound anthemic. Best avoided.