This came out in 2002 – or at least that’s when I got it. Here’s what I said about it back then (with some minor editing):
“I’m learning not to care,” sighs Paul Anderson on A Kind Of Closure, the third album from his slocore duo Tram. Obviously, it’s a lesson he’s taken to heart.
Like the title might suggest, this 11-song disc chronicles the sad, bitter end of a love affair in a series of somebody-done-somebody-wrong laments. Starring as the wronged lover, Anderson picks at the scabs of his ruined relationship with brutal honesty, crooning cheery diary entries like, “The fear is almost gone / the hatred still lives on,” as he tosses and turns on a bleakly beautiful bed of narcoleptic downbeats, melancholy minor-key melodies and lushly sombre instrumentation. As he vacillates between the anger of You Let Me Down and the yearning of Forgive Me Dear, you can’t help but feel sorry for the poor blighter. But at the same time, you sorta want to thank him. After all, no matter how badly you get burned in love, one listen to this will make you realize that you’re not alone — and make you grateful you’re not as screwed-up as Anderson.