Thom BrookesWho is Thom Brookes? If you asked him at ten years old, inspired after reading ‘Lord of the Rings’, he would’ve told you he’s a writer. In his teens, during the Nirvana cover band phase so many of his peers probably went through as well, he might have said ‘rock star’. While he was studying English and poetry at university, the answer would’ve been ‘poet’. But, having formed his first band post-graduation, that may have skipped back a step fairly quickly.

Fast forward a few years, and English-born Brookes, now living in the remote surrounds of County Kerry, can add ‘husband’, ‘father’ and, with the release of his debut EP ‘Milk’, ‘singer/songwriter’ and ‘producer’ to the mix. He may have had a few career changes along the way, but in writing, recording and producing the record at home by himself, the influence of all these previous guises comes through each of the four tracks here. A well-crafted collection of tales about love, loneliness and yearning, Milk possesses a literary and poetic character which a lot of albums from other singer/songwriter types can lack.

And while Brookes’ sound is largely founded in an almost stereotypical singer/songwriter tradition, just like his career, there are a few twists and turns along the way. Opener and lead single from the EP, Let Me Bend Your Ear Awhile – a rich, heartfelt yarn of loss and devotion – sticks most closely to those traditional rules. Kicking off with a pretty, gentle acoustic guitar, drums soon crash and strings slink in to prop up the melody. They stay on the side of subtlety rather than extravagance, but odd, jarring blasts of noise prevent things from slipping into the mundane.

The slow-moving I Hear The Wind, another story of loneliness and regret, doesn’t stray too far from those traditions either, its simple piano opening and mellow guitars livened up by waves of almost hypnotically off-kilter keys and eerie organs. Borrowed Bread, however, boasts more of an upbeat, ho-down feel, replete with some clever bass-work, snappy drums and jangly riffs weaving their way in and out of Brookes’ solid vocals.

Closing the show, Cupid’s Asleep exudes a jazzy swagger which again exposes the diversity of his influences. Led by a more forceful piano building into an intensified soundscape, Brookes shares vocal duties with Ellen Smith (of Ellen and the Escapades) in some back-and-forth coquetry, and there’s a biting edge and attitude here that’s missing elsewhere on the EP. Standing out as the most different, it’s quite possibly also the highlight.

So, after listening to Milk, are we any closer to understanding who Thom Brookes is? These four tracks would suggest that he’s a talented musician, an able vocalist and a literary soul who has created a pleasantly charming rather than purely captivating record, the kind you might murmur about in passing to a friend rather than shout about from the rooftops. But if Brookes takes some time to think about who he is and the direction he wants to take as an artist and then follows it, that murmuring could quickly get louder.