Andrew Van Garratt – ‘Point Nemo’

(Rock Company)

There are albums that announce exactly what they are within the first minute, and then there are records like Point Nemo by Andrew Van Garratt, which seem almost determined to keep you guessing from beginning to end. It's one of those rare releases that refuses to sit comfortably inside a single genre, borrowing colours from across the musical spectrum without ever sounding like a patchwork exercise. Market it as pop rock and you're only telling half the story. Scratch beneath the surface and you'll find an album steeped in the psychedelic spirit of the late sixties and early seventies, seasoned with enough melodic charm and eccentricity to make it feel both nostalgic and refreshingly individual.

In an era where so many artists are obsessed with fitting neatly into streaming playlists and algorithm-friendly categories, Van Garratt has instead chosen the scenic route. Point Nemo feels handcrafted rather than manufactured, the sort of album that rewards patience instead of demanding instant gratification. It's not interested in chasing trends or delivering obvious radio moments. Instead, it creates its own peculiar little universe and invites the listener to spend forty-odd minutes wandering around inside it.

The first thing that strikes you is the atmosphere. Rather than relying on sheer volume or bombast, the record builds its world through texture, melody and subtle shifts in mood. There are echoes of the psychedelic pioneers throughout, but these aren't lazy imitations or obvious pastiches. The influence is woven naturally into the songwriting, surfacing in unexpected harmonic turns, dreamlike arrangements and an adventurous spirit that constantly nudges the music in surprising directions.

Listeners with a fondness for the more whimsical moments of The Beatles will undoubtedly find plenty to smile about here. Not because Van Garratt is attempting to recreate Sgt. Pepper or Magical Mystery Tour, but because he shares that willingness to let imagination steer the ship. There's a playful quality running through parts of the album that prevents the more introspective moments from becoming overly heavy. It creates an appealing contrast, allowing light and shade to coexist without either overwhelming the other.

What makes Point Nemo particularly interesting is its refusal to play by modern songwriting conventions. The arrangements breathe. Songs are allowed to evolve naturally rather than rushing towards predictable hooks every thirty seconds. Melodies unfold patiently, instrumental passages are given room to flourish, and there's an unmistakable sense that the music serves the emotional journey rather than the demands of commercial formatting.

Production plays a huge role in making this work. The sound is warm, organic and inviting, avoiding the sterile perfection that often dominates contemporary recordings. Instruments feel lived in rather than digitally polished to within an inch of their lives. Layers emerge gradually over repeated listens, with subtle keyboard textures, carefully placed guitar flourishes and tasteful vocal harmonies revealing themselves long after the first playthrough. It's an album that genuinely benefits from giving it your full attention, preferably through a decent pair of headphones.

Van Garratt's songwriting also deserves considerable praise. While the album explores some abstract and philosophical territory, it never disappears entirely into self-indulgent obscurity. There remains an emotional core running throughout the record that keeps everything grounded. Even when the lyrics become more impressionistic, there's enough humanity present to maintain a genuine connection with the listener. You may not always know exactly where the journey is heading, but you rarely feel lost.

Vocally, Van Garratt understands that restraint can often be more powerful than theatrics. Rather than competing with the elaborate instrumentation, his performances complement it beautifully, delivering melodies with quiet confidence instead of unnecessary showmanship. It's another reminder that not every singer needs to belt every chorus to make an impact.

One of the album's greatest strengths is its pacing. Rather than front-loading all the strongest material before running out of steam, Point Nemo unfolds like a carefully sequenced listening experience. The various moods flow naturally into one another, creating a sense of cohesion that many modern albums struggle to achieve. It feels like a complete body of work rather than simply a collection of unrelated songs gathered under one title.

Of course, this won't be an album for everyone, and that's perfectly fine. Those looking for immediate singalong anthems or straightforward pop-rock simplicity may find themselves scratching their heads. Point Nemo asks for a little more investment from its audience. It requires listeners willing to surrender to its oddities, embrace its detours and accept that not every musical idea needs an obvious destination. Some will undoubtedly find that approach frustrating.

But for the listeners who connect with its wavelength, I suspect this record will become something rather special. These are often the albums that develop cult followings over time. The ones that don't dominate the charts but quietly become treasured favourites among those who discover them. Every revisit uncovers another small detail, another clever arrangement, another melodic twist that somehow escaped notice before.

Perhaps that's the greatest compliment you can pay Point Nemo. It possesses genuine replay value in an age where too much music is designed for instant consumption and rapid disposal. This is an album that encourages exploration, inviting listeners back not because they missed something through carelessness, but because the music itself contains enough depth to keep revealing new layers.

‘Take The Bait’ opens the album with confidence, immediately introducing the listener to Andrew Van Garratt's colourful musical palette. Psychedelic textures, memorable melodies and a playful edge combine to make an engaging opener that hints at the musical journey ahead.

‘Feel The Morning’ eases into a brighter, more uplifting atmosphere. There's a breezy quality to the arrangement that recalls classic late-sixties pop without feeling trapped by nostalgia. It's warm, melodic and quietly infectious.

‘One Day’ shifts the mood slightly, balancing introspection with accessible songwriting. The melodies linger long after the music fades, while the layered instrumentation rewards repeated listens with subtle details.

‘Eternal Condition’ explores the album's more expansive side. Rich arrangements and thoughtful pacing allow the song to breathe, creating an immersive listening experience that highlights Van Garratt's willingness to let ideas develop naturally.

‘Hermetica’ embraces the record's psychedelic influences most openly. Dreamlike textures and adventurous musical turns create an intriguing centrepiece that showcases the album's refusal to follow predictable conventions.

‘Hurting’ provides one of the album's emotional high points. There's a vulnerability here that cuts through the elaborate production, with heartfelt vocals and tasteful instrumentation working together to deliver genuine feeling without becoming overly dramatic.

‘What's This Mess You're In’ injects a welcome sense of quirky charm. Hints of whimsical British pop peek through the arrangement, recalling the playful imagination of classic seventies songwriting while maintaining the album's own distinct personality.

‘All The Years’ offers a reflective moment, built around elegant melodies and restrained performances. Its understated approach proves highly effective, allowing the emotional weight to emerge naturally rather than forcing the issue.

‘You're Done’ introduces a little more bite, adding welcome contrast to the album's gentler moments. The sharper musical edges bring renewed energy while remaining consistent with the record's overall character.

‘Soak’ slows the pace once more, surrounding the listener with rich textures and carefully layered arrangements. It feels immersive and hypnotic, encouraging complete surrender to the album's distinctive atmosphere.

‘Cease’ closes Point Nemo in fitting fashion, tying together many of the themes explored throughout the record. Rather than ending with bombast, it leaves a lasting impression through atmosphere, melody and thoughtful composition, bringing an imaginative and rewarding album to a satisfying conclusion.

Andrew Van Garratt hasn't made the easiest album to categorise, nor does it feel like he ever intended to. Instead, he's delivered a thoughtful, imaginative and deeply personal record that wears its classic psychedelic influences proudly while maintaining its own distinct identity. It may never appeal to the masses, but that's hardly the point. Point Nemo is content to exist slightly outside the mainstream, and it's all the more fascinating because of it.

For those willing to step off the well-trodden musical path, Point Nemo offers a rewarding, colourful and often enchanting journey. It won't click with every listener, but those who find themselves drawn into its peculiar world may well end up wondering how they ever managed without it.

7/10

Essential Track – ‘One Day’

Review by Woody