ANYBODY'S heart, surely, would go out to a character hung on a big stake, making his back ache, and whose plight is such that he "might as well as be sitting on death row."

Those are but two of the mournful observations of the narrator of Emotional Bends' first track, Scarecrow, and, by song's end, the listener is feeling more than a little sorry for the poor fellow standing in the meadow.

Like almost every track on this album of eclectic styles, it's the quality of the lyrics set alongside the exemplary playing of all concerned that reels the listener in.

It's a slow, insidious ensnarement, though. The first two or three listens leave you thinking that, yes, it’s a nice enough record but nowt special.

Then, you start to take a bit more notice. The poetry of the words worms its way into your subconscious and, before you know it, your opinion's changed to "Hey, this is a really good album."

Don't let the poetry word put you off; this ain't hearts'n'flowers, lovey-dovey, rhyming couplets stuff.

This is the poetry of a guitar-slinger who's seen a bit of life – a lot of it on the road.

The more casual music fan may not be entirely aware of Mr McIntosh. His biggest gigs have been as guitarist with Paul McCartney's touring band, circa Flowers in the Dirt, and with Chrissie Hynde in The Pretenders.

And, on the evidence here, he's picked up a trick or two along the way.

For this record, and subsequent live outings, including last year's Cropredy festival, he's surrounded himself with four top-notch sidemen.

From blues-belters Nine Below Zero, Mark Feltham's brought along his harmonica; Paul Beavis is behind the drum-kit; Melvin Duffy takes pedal steel duties; and the bass is supplied by one of this country's finest session players of the past ten or twenty years, Pino Palladino.

And co-producer Stephen Dorrell-Smith contributes some fine keyboards on six of the 12 tracks here.

Naturally, beside McIntosh's fine picking, it's Feltham and Duffy who most immediately stand out but the Palladino/Beavis engine room doesn't cough, splutter or miss a beat throughout.

McIntosh takes all the writing credits (except on two tracks, on which he listed as co-composer) and he's come up with a varied haul.

From the tenderness of Homesteaders (at seven minutes-plus the longest track) to the down and dirty Cactus Juice, he endows each title with sincerity – to paraphrase a line from Joe and me, track two – and some quite marvellous guitarring.

Tracks nine and ten help you to get a handle on his way with words.

Good punchline is the tragi-comic story of an inept bank robber and how each sorry chapter of the story, from capture to imprisonment, ends with, yep, you've guessed – a good punchline. Even if it is always at our hero's cost.

Simple thing is a catalogue of the financial headaches most of us face every day, leaving the love of a man and woman as the only simple thing in life.

And that song title pretty much sums up this album. Ostensibly it's a simple thing but it's a very satisfying record.

I've been listening to it for almost a year now, since its initial release, and it's one that I return to time and time again.

Do yourself a favour and track it down – you'll not be disappointed.

Fred Hall