Indeed, the music on Dreams may not be as stripped and empty as a Kings of Convenience disc, but ultimately it still revels in the same similar gentle melancholy pop, and, considering Øye’s sad restrained voice, it’s nigh impossible to break the comparisons between the two. But this time imagine the duo as transformed into a complete band, and one who has opted to plug in its amps and turn up the volume, well, at least a teensy bit. While the amps might not be at 11, they’re sure louder than expected from a man with an album titled Quiet is the New Loud under his belt. While the record is still a sedate affair, perfect for lazy Sundays or as background for a dinner party, the Whitest Boy Alive is hardly producing anything revolutionary, especially when it seems to be just a fuller Kings of Convenience disc. It’s appealing just not as folky.