Last year I saw Alex Cornish play a solo show in the relaxed, convivial atmosphere of The Speakeasy Café, a small, tented corner of the Connect festival in Argyll. With the audience assembled on rugs and sofas, sipping coffee and munching flapjacks, Cornish was the ideal accompaniment to a lazy afternoon: a charming, witty performer with pleasant songs who seemed genuinely excited to be there.I wonder if he'd feel quite the same sense of privilege over playing to a few dozen punters now. Since last August, the English, Edinburgh-based Cornish has built a following of friends in high places; one such lofty locale being Broadcasting House, where his dulcet brogue and gently euphoric songwriting has been sprinkled with the commercial gold dust that is playlist support from Wogan, Radcliffe et al on Radio 2.With this media fanfare it's surprising to learn that Cornish's debut album arrives without any major label backing. In fact, Until the Traffic Stops is a solo work in the truest sense: not only did Cornish do the bulk of the recording from his home studio, but he also releases it through his own label, Bellevue. Dispel any notions of a claustrophobic, rough-hewn bedroom demo though, because this is an album of horizon-seeking scale and ambition, production-wise at least.From the first chord to the last, Cornish embellishes his acoustic guitar with stirring string arrangements, blankets of Rhodes organ and various other horn and piano accoutrements. By contrast, his songwriting is intensely private and cloistered, a dark procession of self-deriding angst ("I've gone to waste from the inside / Outside the world's insane" he sings on 'Same Ride Same Way') and vague depictions of a relationship turned sour ("Do you understand that all the dreams that I had, you stole?" on 'Lights On').It's an intriguing juxtaposition, but that alone is not enough to propel Until the Traffic Stops into any end-of-year lists. The problem many reviewers will have, especially in 'edgier' publications like the one you're reading, is the fact that Cornish treads a path of safe, richly melodic indie already beaten by the much-maligned likes of Keane, Damien Rice and Coldplay. The latter band in particular are impossible to shake while listening to Cornish, especially on 'The King of Hearts', where his agile vocals are uncannily similar to Chris Martin's pitch-perfect intonations.Perhaps it's inevitable that Cornish will attract flak for his soft-focus sound and overtly emotional ballads, given his unavoidable MOR lineage. But with his high profile backers he looks poised for a real breakthrough, despite the fact that there is certainly more interesting folk-inflected music being made right now, especially in his adoptive city of Edinburgh. I could bore you with more anecdotes about how nice a guy Cornish seemed in that Earl Grey-scented marquee, but to be brutally honest his music is unlikely to do much for you, dear TLOBF reader. Your mum, however, will love him. 60%Alex Cornish on MySpace