Christopher Scott Brammer, the Australian-born, London-domiciled mind behind this project, spent nearly thirty years away from songwriting while life did what life does — marriage, family, the slow erosion of creative time by the demands of ordinary existence. That gap matters here, because "Spark" doesn't sound like a young man's hunger for attention. It sounds like a grown man's hunger for meaning, which is a rarer and more interesting thing to put to a melody.

Following his debut "Brave," this second single takes the project's central preoccupation — the dialogue with an inner voice, secular but unmistakably devotional in tone — and turns it toward the question of where inspiration actually comes from. The answer the song lands on, unsurprisingly given the title, is that it was inside all along, waiting for someone to strike the match. It's not a novel revelation, but pop music has built entire cathedrals out of less original ideas, and the trick has always been delivery, not discovery.

The influences Brammer cites — The Killers' widescreen yearning, Coldplay's gift for the communal swell, Springsteen's blue-collar gravity, Paul Simon's melodic intelligence, all filtered through an 80s new wave sheen — read on paper like a recipe for pastiche. What saves "Spark" from that fate is restraint. This is anthemic songwriting that hasn't yet succumbed to the temptation of the false climax, the strings-and-key-change escalation so beloved of lesser inheritors of the Brandon Flowers school. The emotional peaks feel earned through accumulation rather than manufactured through volume.

Mood-wise, the touchstones offered — reflective, uplifting, intimate, inspirational — could describe half the singer-songwriter output of the last two decades, but here they cohere into something genuinely felt rather than algorithmically assembled. That's the advantage of an artist arriving at this material in middle life rather than in the first flush of ambition: the reflection isn't performed, it's lived-in. You can hear someone who has actually sat with silence long enough to know what filling it again feels like.

Whether "Spark" will travel beyond its early streaming momentum into something culturally durable remains an open question, and one that no press release, however glowing, can answer on its own. Debut singles can coast on novelty; second singles have to prove a project has legs. On this evidence, Mister Chorister's legs are sturdier than the modest scale of the rollout might suggest — this is a song built for slow-burn discovery rather than viral combustion, which feels entirely appropriate for an artist whose whole comeback narrative is one of patience rewarded.

Brammer has described this return as driven by inner pull rather than nostalgia, and "Spark" bears that out. It doesn't look backward with longing; it looks inward with curiosity. For an artist rediscovering his voice after a near-thirty-year silence, that's not a small achievement — it's the whole point.

**Verdict:** A quietly confident return that trades spectacle for sincerity, and mostly wins the trade.