Album review: Edwyn Collins: Understated IT IS not uncommon to hear someone proclaim - often on a TV talent show with cameras and tears rolling - that music saved their life. Edwyn Collins: Understated Were Edwyn Collins not the droll and humble man that he is, he might want to milk that angle too and, believe me, there wouldn't be a dry eye in the house if he did. But rather than say that in so many words, Collins prefers just to get on with the job and allow the listener to conclude that music has indeed been his lifeline since he suffered a potentially devastating stroke eight years ago. Collins was not expected to survive, never mind return to his day job as musician and producer but, as anyone who has seen him on his numerous tours since then will attest, he has made a remarkable recovery, singing and, as we now know, writing as well as he ever did. Collins has since produced two albums of his own, first completing Home Again, a collection of songs he had written before his illness, then releasing Losing Sleep, featuring all-new material. He has also returned to producing other artists in his own West Heath Yard studio and has set up his own label, AED. As he said himself, using one of the four phrases he was initially able to utter through his post-stroke aphasia, "the possibilities are endless." Where Losing Sleep was peppered with guest appearances from the likes of Johnny Marr and Alex Kapranos, coming together in mutual celebration, its follow-up, Understated, written mainly in his Helmsdale bolthole, is just Collins, his muse and his band - a consequence and a sign of his increasing independence. Like Richard Hawley, with whom he shares a love of vintage sounds, Collins has a great talent for distilling the past without pastiching it, a talent which is imprinted all over his best known song, A Girl Like You. Understated is saturated with his love of classic soul music, be it birthed in Detroit, Memphis or Philadelphia, and comes roaring off the blocks here with great energy on opening track Dilemma, primed with sassy horns and northern soul momentum. As he stretches to reach the high notes, the vocals are not perfect - but Collins" vocals never were perfect. In his lyrics, he also appreciates the past, while living most definitely in the present. The title track takes him back to his first job as a graphic artist for the Glasgow parks department and, musically, to his post-punk pop roots. In The Now opens with memories of childhood holidays and he allows himself a bit of back-slapping nostalgia on the sunny jangle of 31 Years, but his thoughts are still ultimately with the here and now, as he offers thanks that "what the heck, I'm living now." As its playfully antiquated title suggests, Forsooth cuts right to the truth with the words "I'm so happy to be alive." Collins has said that he finds lyrics a struggle, yet he has hit a simple but rich seam on this album. "Got music to see me through ... got time to work it out, got love to get us through, got hope to cling to, and I got to find a way to understand the world," he sings on stealthy soulful rock'n"roll strut Baby Jean. What more need be said? The motivational Carry On, Carry On is a Motown-influenced stomp with a melody that is all Collins and a philosophy, about the simple pleasure of a friendly exchange when you're out and about, which is worn as lightly as the blithe music. One can appreciate what a victory it is for Collins to be able to have that basic everyday interaction, especially when he sings later, on It's A Reason, about "that awkward sense of being me" which he characterizes post-stroke as "back to front, inside out." There are other moments when the sun goes in. Down The Line is a hangdog country lament expressing regret and asking for understanding that he hasn't been able to be his whole self, embellished by a great lonesome backing chorus, while rip-roaring northern soul stomper Too Bad (That's Sad) issues a summary dismissal of a relationship. He ends on a sparse acoustic cover of Rod McKuen's Love's Been Good To Me, previously rendered by the likes of Frank Sinatra and Johnny Cash, which is at odds with the sonic richness of his own songs but similar in the sincerity of its sentiments. It provides a sweet, intimate coda although, given the positivity and gratitude which courses through this confident, celebratory album, maybe Collins should have tackled William DeVaughn's Be Thankful For What You've Got instead.