Diana - Familiar Touch

The Guardian 40

(Culvert/ILS/Caroline)

Fairly or otherwise, the 80s are a musical era long defined by irony and inauthenticity, a triumph of alloy over purity. Canadian trio Diana’s first album, Perpetual Surrender, had fun playing with these tired themes, taking an intriguing if unexceptional gauzy approach to synth-pop: the sound of Phil Collins flying between Live Aids, as heard from the baggage hold. This follow-up is a huge disappointment, a criminally boring collection of overlong stadium pop homilies. The writing simply isn’t strong enough to carry the weight of Diana’s newly inflated ambitions. It’s always difficult to ape the heroic naivety of our least-loved decade without seeming insincere, but that’s no excuse for Familiar Touch’s toxic banality.