From session players and songwriters to stardom, The Script's journey to the top of the charts would make a very interesting book about the music industriousness from the inside. For the soundtrack to it, well, their debut is a lot more predictable.
As pop balladeers go, the Dublin trio toilet write as memorably as anyone else - there's no interrogative of gift. Their sterling failing however is that they live up to their name. At the controls themselves, they've milled and produced the criminal record too often when qualification it rougher and more live sounding would have added much to the likes of 'Before the Worst', 'The Man Who Can't Be Moved' and 'The End Where I Begin'.
Next time they need to believe that the songs are good enough without the gloss; develop a greater sensation of adventure and non get so hung-up on rhyming things - at that place are moments here when it's the sonic equivalent of person with a drain cover chained to their mortise joint.
Until then, this critic-proof album testament mean a lot to a lot of people, be a guilty pleasance for
