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Here's the thing. Allo Darlin' create a pleasant dilemma. This is the third album from the Anglo-Aussie band and so we have come to know what to expect. Insightful and direct lyrics are combined with sunkissed-ukelele melodies and catchy little riffs. But after four years striking a sweet chord with this combination, has it become a comfy safety blanket (which hey, we all need from time to time) with which to avoid an emotional maturity? It depends whether you think a band needs to evolve or even to change much at all if they have a sturdy fan-base. A formula exists for a reason. Hence, the dilemma.

There are two versions of this review somewhere, living in a Dorian Gray-esque symbiosis. There is the saccharine one which smiles from ear-to-ear at the gentle nostalgia and wistful optimism of Elizabeth Morris' songs and doesn't mind the teeny-bop. The other review's smile has cracked and cynically wonders what time-capsule the band is living in when they sing about "Jagermeister" and a "half hearted necklace".

Fortunately, neither of these has seen the light of day. Instead, this review tries to enjoy the wholesome honesty of the record, but has reservations with some of the external connections to the album, if you don't listen to it in a bubble or live in modern society.

The title track, third of eleven on this 39-minute release, has a hook which is incredibly reminiscent of the guitar bridge from 'Dancing in the Dark', not a bad start. It is also typically Morris' as she sings "when I tell you these things, I'm really talking to myself." There's an undeniable amiability to her voice as though you are the only one in the room with her. It seems she knows this as the self-reflexive lyric curves back on itself to remind you that she both is, and isn't. It is clever and charmingly simple but there's that nagging feeling of over-familiarity. It lacks emotional bite.

'Half Hearted Necklace' clearly doubles as a layer of doubt. The gesture is not as sincere as it seems. In 'Angela', "the hardest thing we have to learn/ is when those we love/ don't love us in return." The trouble is, Morris delivers these bittersweet sentiments with the same lilting Aussie-twang as she sings "we know that we are the kings and queens of love." It seems a question of nuance, if you have to strain to find the reality in the uplifting disposition of Allo Darlin' - does it make it unreal or genius?

As we reported in August, Morris notes that "the songs were written very quickly, during a period when I found writing songs very easy." You can hear this; the atmosphere across the album is very constant. However, it makes them very similar by the same standard. The ukulele-strumming front-woman was apparently in the same place emotionally with most of these songs and she claims she felt better after writing them.

The catharsis that came to Elizabeth Morris when writing these songs is audible, lightening the otherwise darker tones that are present in We Come From The Same Place, ultimately watering down what might have been a much deeper listening experience.

Unlike back in August, we now have some complaints for a band which are very difficult not to like.

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