Pitchfork

When José González's debut album, Veneer, began to catch on in 2005-- two years after it was first issued-- part of its magic involved the long journey the Swedish/Argentine singer-songwriter's recordings had made. With so much time elapsed between those recordings, it's a little disappointing that the follow-up, five-track EP Stay in the Shade, sounds mostly like more of the same. The tightly double-tracked vocal fjords and sinuous finger-picking remain, as do González's lyrics, which stick mostly to Nick Drake's strangely suggestive universals: "It's warm in the blood/ Cold in the rain," he coos on erstwhile B-side "Down the Hillside", an incongruously chipper (for Gonzo) ditty about cemeteries. Another former flip, "Sensing Owls", slows the pace for a tralatitious take on mountaintops, coming-outs, and the lack of designated drivers. The biggest changes from Veneer are an increased use of hand percussion and less frequent bossa nova tinges, so hold onto your knitted hats.

All along, González has been the rare singer-songwriter known more for a cover than for his, y'know, songwriting. The centerpiece of Veneer was his aching rendition of the Knife's "Heartbeats", which has since earned him fame and fortune by appearing in a Sony commercial and, subsequently, the UK top 10. His sequel of sorts, a cover of Kylie Minogue's "Hand on Your Heart", deserves credit for its steadfast straight-face, though by the end his earnestness, percussive guitar-playing and the dopey lyrics have him seeming more like a cuddly coffeehouse troubadour along the lines of Matt Wertz or Dave Barnes than a haunted lo-fi auteur. Put in terms of fellow coverman Mark Kozelek, of Red House Painters and Sun Kil Moon, if "Heartbeats" was What's Next to the Moon then "Hand on Your Heart" is closer to Tiny Cities.

Thing is, González's records are more aesthetic than songs. Eerie, stripped to the waist, and raining classical guitar; it's a fine style, and perfect for bringing the dance-oriented songs of the Knife and Kylie to audiences that otherwise might be loath to embrace them. But weightless João Gilberto-like singing and delicately plucked Drakeisms will only get González so far until his compositions catch up. A closing, untitled instrumental features remarkably humble, droning guitar-playing and funereal horns. A crowd chatters for its final two minutes, as if still waiting for something to begin.

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