a2456564070_10Beezer, Topper and Whizzer & Chips – references that will be lost to a certain demographic who lend their ears to ‘Bread and Jam’, the latest album from Popical Island band Groom, but will open a window back to childhood for others. Fortunately for Groom, a lack of savvy regarding references to the ‘80s and beyond won’t affect anyone’s enjoyment of this record.

From the ‘Marriage’ LP in 2010 through the ‘Brothers and Sisters’ EP in 2013, Groom have blended giddy power pop and wistful balladry to fine effect, and ‘Bread and Jam’ is no different. It’s an album that traverses this green land of ours, deftly touching on personal landmarks and dropping lyrical pins on the map of Michael Stephens’ memory and imagination.

A contrast exists between the spikier, raucous numbers and the more heartfelt ones. You get the feeling Groom can knock out the punky power pop tunes in their sleep – Dermot, Dermot, Dermot, Dermot’s brief, yelping tale whose protagonist’s name may linger on in your memory; an equally bracing When Young People Fall In Love; Colours’ ode to stained-glass window artist Harry Clarke. It’s in the more restrained numbers, though, that the songwriting shines more subtly. The glasses through which certain of these tales are recalled are tinted, for sure; sometimes rosy, other times with a more sombrely-shaded hue.

Reminiscences of Emerald wrappers and comics belie a darker theme in Ronan Ague Aine, Ca Bhfuil Tú? and a hint of Thin Lizzy in the breakdown completes the retrospective sheen of the album’s opener. The band’s Popical Island colleague Paddy Hanna lends his lungs on harmonica on Moving To Athlone, a song whose success has nothing to do with referencing the “lesser crimes of Brendan Shine”, surely Athlone’s most prolific musical son.

A more dramatic musical turn suits the subject matter of I’ve Never Been In A Real Fight, but the real heartbreakers on ‘Bread & Jam’ sit wearily amongst the pogoing attention seekers. The folky lament of Threadneedle Road details the remembrances surrounding a moment of loss; loss of the hairy, four-legged variety that would bring a tear to the eye of a needle.

The poignancy of The Old Songs (“Your suit worn from re-use/ Mine from intention”) is assuaged by a touch of waltzing doo wop, and a sprinkling of Bowie. “The old songs are the best” sings Stephens, summing up the sense of joyous melancholy (if such a thing exists? Of course it does) that this album evokes during its finer points.

‘Bread and Jam’ seems a natural progression from the previous year’s ‘Brothers and Sisters’ EP, treading similar ground thematically only this time on a broader canvas. The path Groom inhabit may be well-worn, but at least in their hands it’s worn well.