Evidently not that argyle umbrella man that used to follow Sean Combs around…

[Video][Website]
[5.56]

Katherine St Asaph: “Benjamin Francis Leftwich.” Jesus hell. What that is to names, Benny’s hour-hand murmur is to music, although it did momentarily amuse me to learn that his label is called Dirty Hit. In the dreams you don’t have.
[4]

Hazel Robinson: Benjamin! Benjamin, you get back here right now and do your homework. No, I actually like this; I’m as susceptible as the next person the occasional bit of well done guitary wispiness, and this grasps the gentleness necessary to crafting the spell. Pretty and sad and comforting with a really nice string arrangement rather than a lazy attempt at synth. It’s sentimentalist but all music’s woobly about something.
[8]

Ian Mathers: Okay, I know Leftwich has a lot in common with a bunch of twee, self-pitying bullshit that I hate, but on this one song the chorus is so gorgeous, and the lyrics oblique enough, that he just reminds me of my beloved Tamas Wells. I promise that if we somehow cover his eternally-sighing Arcade Fire and Killers covers I’ll rip into those.
[10]

Michaela Drapes: Leftwich wears his influences proudly on his turned-up little sleeve, which is perfectly fine when you’re plowing that particular field and turning up gems like this luminous ditty. Don’t listen to the lyrics too closely; just hang on to that nostalgic, poignant memory of first love for a moment once he’s done — and let it dissipate in the warm, sweet breeze it blew in on.
[5]

Jer Fairall: The gentle acoustic plucks, the sensitive-guy vocal wisp, the natural setting, the “but I am flawed,” the tastefully emotive strings—it’s all every bit as meticulously crafted for Starbucks in-store play and indie-drama soundtrack appearances as any Pitbull track is for the club floor.  But if this is in fact the work of a machine built with Nick Drake and Elliott Smith presets, rather than the 21 year old Englishman Wikipedia claims is behind it, it is the model of efficiency, delivering precisely what is required of it with maximum prettiness and none of the gristle of Mumford and Sons, Jack Johnson, Damien Rice or James Blunt and Morrison.
[7]

Anthony Easton: Anemic and wet, with a passive aggressive refusal to fully engage with his voice. This refusal suggests an emotional blankness instead of the vulnerability or sadness he attempts to indicate.
[6]

Jonathan Bogart: Maybe it’s because I grew up believing whole-heartedly and singing full-throatedly to actual Christian hymns, but every time I hear one of these fake humanist ones I want to punch the dude singing it right in his metaphysical beard.
[4]

Sally O’Rourke: Didn’t we review Bon Iver last week?
[3]

Zach Lyon: See, the interesting thing about “Box of Stzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…
[3]