It seems like only a few months since I was reviewing MBAR’s self-titled debut release, and yeah, that’s probably because it is only a few months, but the point I’m making is that it was a memorable album, with a first half, at least, of songs that you don’t forget just because you don’t have to review it anymore.It wasn’t an album without faults, and Miles’ sophomore Summer of Fear goes quite a long way in getting rid of those faults. It’s consistent to the end, production values are massively up, tracks no longer sound like they’re about to collapse and fall apart at the seams, and for that matter, nor does Miles himself. Thing is, most of these corrections just create problems of their own. Part of the charm of his self-titled was just how, well, silly it all sounded - played under the name of one man, but clearly the work of a whole orchestra, it was hard to shake the image of Robinson as a one-man band, and that was kind of how the songs came across, like if one little thing went wrong the whole thing would bring itself down in a crash of symbols and snapping guitar strings.A year on, Miles is in reflective mode, the cover showing him, bizarrely, sitting on a deck chair in the middle of an incoming tide, but looking in towards the shore instead of outwards towards the ocean, which, if I was some kind if literature student or something, I might suggest implies the introspective nature of this album. Which I am, so I will. It’s not to say that this is a quiet, acoustic album, eschewing rockabilly in favour of weeping into a microphone, because Miles can’t resist rocking out, but this time he’s rocking out in such an anodyne way that you’d be forgiven for not noticing when one song has faded in after the previous one faded out. Instead of a bunch of people walking into each other smashing instruments against their shins and hoping for the best, this has proper codas, and solos, and musical structures that are just too intentional and plotted, like a set piece in a big action movie you just know is gonna happen.And frustratingly, this is far from a bad album. If it was, this review would be much easier. It reveals all its faults far before it shows itself as a very good album. And it’s probably my fault for thinking self-titled part 2, which, lets face it, even if it had been I’d have criticised it for failing to do away with the faults of the first record. Maybe it’s just hard for me to come to terms with the guy who “wanted just to die” becoming an artist who could make such a mature, hopeful sounding album, an album you’re not scared to play to your friends, an album that’s as much about looking in and finding everything that’s worth living for rather than looking out and only seeing the things that aren’t. If you enjoyed his first album, it’s really worth giving this a chance. Yeah, it sounds a little by-numbers, but maybe the only way to follow up such a rickety bridge of a record is by creating an intensely structured and crafted pop-rock exorcism.Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson on MySpace