On the eve of a recent cross-country flight that I was not particularly looking forward to taking, I became suddenly convinced that my airplane luck had finally run out. Over the past 20 years, I've enjoyed what I view as an unprecedented streak of not dying brutally in a cataclysmic fireball sent at high rates of speed from the ominous skies above. Nor has my entire body been sucked through a little airplane window and dropped headfirst onto jagged rocks from a height of 35,000 feet. Hell, I haven't even been violently flung against the ceiling by abrupt turbulence. It's been all too easy for me in terms of airplane travel.

So, as my girlfriend drove me to the airport, completely unaware of my impending demise, I decided to soothe my jangled nerves by putting on the Kingsbury Manx's eponymous debut. Amazingly, it helped. Sweeping folk tones mediated the struggle between my overactive brain and taxed nervous system. Serene vocals calmed, saying: "Taylor, once you set foot on a plane, your actual chances of death are around 1 in 7 million. Relax. You are 4 times more likely to be killed by lightning than in a plane accident. Let us ease your preposterously troubled mind." Of course, they were actually saying something much more artful and appropriate than that, but the overall effect was roughly the same.

The Kingsbury Manx do not craft songs that will stun you with their ingenuity and proficiency. Rather, the album recalls a tranquil mountain lake scene: they're peaceful and beautiful, sometimes even unique, but they so resemble other similar scenes that they seem a bit common. Songs like "Pageant Square" and "Piss Diary" offer a pronounced soft folk vibe that is both gorgeous and soothing in its simplicity. Steadily-picked guitars and light drums comprise the delicate setting in which ethereal vocals blossom slowly. Occasional strings and ambient synthesized sounds pepper many of the tracks, lending the music an almost New Age feel. This isn't meant in the pejorative John Teshian sense, but instead in the sense that the Kingsbury Manx capture the broad, gentle tones inherent to that much maligned genre and meld them with mild folk instrumentation and mentality.

The effect of this hybrid isn't quite stunning, but makes for a peaceful listen that's active and engaging enough to hold attention. The band also sporadically produces a track like "Cross Your Eyes" that inspires a bit of bodily movement, but The Kingsbury Manx is mostly comprised of placid gems like "How Cruel" that meander into the sunset at a leisurely pace. It's a record that doesn't set out to dizzy listeners with a focused sonic punch, but rather comforts and tranquilizes them with calm, golden tones. In this manner, the Kingsbury Manx have succeeded at creating a very nice, listenable record that won't bowl you over with glee but could entrench itself in your playlist over time.

So, I credit the Kingsbury Manx with preventing harm to myself to the degree that they eased me into a state where I wouldn't try to claw my way out of the plane (or airborne death trap as I was calling it) in mid-flight. Unfortunately, the Kingsbury Manx couldn't hinder Northwest Airlines from sending my bags to Detroit and finally getting them to me at 5:00am the next morning, but I'm hoping that sort of thing will be covered on their next record.

-Taylor M. Clark