I’ve gotta hand it to Fin “Fink” Greenall for bravely sticking to his acoustic guitar and husky tenor instead of reverting back to his sampler, no matter what his fans wish. But he’s still not a nimble lyricist, and he tends to indulge hopelessly romantic clichés where he either writes valentines or Dear John notes to poor lasses. Greenall is cute at best–he sings about missing blueberry pancakes and drops lyrics like “I used to live on Cloud 9/Now I moved to 8” amid decent, inoffensive melodies and wallflower beats. I can’t help but feel nostalgic for his old, drawn-in-crayon trip-hop days.