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Like Gonzalez, Fink has a minimal approach to airing his songs, though his voice lends itself to a smoky, lightly bluesy take on life. The two share a totally unhurried style, with accompaniment relatively sparse, though subtle sound effects hover round the edge of Fink's guitar, which has a light Southern twang to it. Previous records from the Bristol-born producer have played heavily into the electronic camp, with the emphasis on post-rave music, dub and hip hop, but all the while off-mic he would return once again to his first love, the guitar. Gradually his affair with electronic music began to dip his creativity, and so deceiving Ninja in a subtle way he informed them of this hot, unknown guest vocalist from the States he had found. The record company's response was to commission an album's worth of material, and Biscuits For Breakfast entirely vindicates their decision. Such is Fink's vocal delivery and easy-going way with a six-string that he draws the listener in, the autobiographical lyrics right down to the bone, laid bare. Only one song, Hush Now, introduces a second vocalist in the form of a husky-toned Tina Grace - the rest feature Fink's confidential asides. Of these, You Gotta Choose Now muses over a dusty, lazy beat. Biscuits meanders in harmonic circles, yet sounds a little restless in the resigned vocal "in my office on the fifth floor, I can see my world pan out before me". It's the most moving song on the album, so clearly a product of personal experience. The studio dressing shows Fink hasn't totally mislaid his electronic roots, but it's clear this is something of a watershed for him, and he sounds totally at ease expressing himself in this medium. Emotions run throughout his singing, which has an appealing rough edge over the dreamy guitar lines he spins. Nor does he outstay his welcome, just ten songs wrapped up in a perfectly structured forty minutes. And as the album draws towards a regretful close with the confessional Kamlyn ("I left myself behind") Fink pulls himself back towards the surface with the hypnotic Sorry I'm Late. This song takes the daily troubles of 21st century life (a crowded inbox top of his hate list) and deals with it by saying "I need a smoke - who doesn't these days". A small gem of a record then, beautifully realised by its creator, and a late night treat in the offing. Ben Hogwood (www.musicomh.com)

Fresh Produce

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Bio

We’ve played some great shows in the last year, enthuses Fink from his home in Brighton. He’s not kidding, having performed live with his band at the Birmingham and Manchester Academies, Brighton Dome, Colston Hall in Bristol and a string of other venues in support of Zero 7 in the Spring of last year, before hitting the festival circuit with shows at The Big Chill, Bestival, Green Man, and Fruitstock to name but a few. Fink’s debut album for Ninja Tune, Biscuits for Breakfast, marked a seismic shift for the label - shelving samples and turntablism in favour of an acoustic guitar and great songs. The record, distinguished by its squeaking fret boards and disarmingly autobiographical lyrics, caught the attention of audiences worldwide. Over a hundred Fink shows across Europe, including dates at the Electron and JazzOnze festivals, were followed by an intense tour of North America, where Fink, together with bassist Guy Whittaker and drummer Tim Thornton, jetted between seven cities in nine days after having received the Single of the Week slot from iTunes US. Since then, Fink has made special appearances with Nitin Sawhney at the 2007 Electric Proms and throughout a 6-night sold-out run at London’s Jazz Café last December. He and the band are now due to play the esteemed Cognac Blues festival at the end of July, with Fink making another special guest appearance with Nitin Sawhney at the Royal Albert Hall in August as part of this years Proms.

While the lyrics on Fink’s follow-up album, Distance and Time, retain his trademark tension and honest lines of observation, the record feels more sophisticated and somewhat larger than the last, book-ended by the strung out, softly spoken anger of Trouble is What You’re In and the grunting power chords of Little Blue Mailbox. Fink feels that was a direct result of this experience on the road. We did ‘Biscuits for Breakfast’ completely backwards, he explains. It was recorded before we’d ever done a gig, while bands normally have to gig for a while before they get a record deal, then get into the studio. This time around we’ve been on the road for a year and the whole experience has given us some insight into what it takes to headline these places. If you live in the UK, chances are you’ve heard lead single This is the Thing as it currently graces a primetime TV ad campaign for MasterCard. It was weird to hear myself on telly, Fink admits. To think that three or four million people have hard your voice during Coronation Street is certainly a bit strange!

But for me, it’s really all about performing live. I DJ’d for years, so was totally used to going to a strange town, getting up on the stage, and spinning great records, Fink explains, but playing your own material has ten times the intensity, as people are judging not just the songs, but the performance and the vibe of the venue. The Zero 7 tour was really intense as they’d booked us after our fourth ever gig and we were performing in Shepherds Bush Empire on our fifteenth – somewhere all three of us had wanted to play at some point of our lives. That whole period was like being in a movie; a blur of Travel Lodges and sound checks. It fuel injected our ambition in much the same way that touring the US did for us, playing CMJ in a Brooklyn venue, our own sold-out headliner at Joe’s Pub in Manhattan, and SXSW where we followed The Rapture.

I’d already recorded a few new track ideas between putting out the last album and touring, he continues. Late last year we had a bit of space to think and began to work on some sketches, before Andy Barlow came on board to produce the record. He has a great pair of ears, and working with him really allowed us to concentrate on being musicians. Guy was able to just be amazing on bass, rather than also having to engineer. Tim was able to play rather than recreate a drum loop I’d written in my loft, while I could put everything I could into being the singer and the guitar player rather than fiddling around as a producer trying to make the bass sound deeper or the snare crisper.

With the last album, I was very conscious about making my emotions public, and it crossed my mind that I may have had a problem taking that forward. At first, I hoped my writing would become more abstract, in that I would be able to imagine scenarios and write about them, but I think that writing from real experience has to come from the heart, and that’s what people relate to. It’s not that I’m unlucky in love or anything, he adds, laughing, I just think that you go through so much when a relationship breaks down that there may be a song for each tiny nuance of emotion that you feel. There’s a pause, as Fink takes a long drag on his cigarette, Maybe I just think too hard.

Label: Ninja Tune

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