Sheezus (2014) - Lily Allen

Sometimes I get so bogged down with nostalgia and trying to weave together some kind of grandiose review to end all reviews that it all starts to feel a bit stale. The albums I want to discuss are usually steeped in meaning for me, or have had verdicts on them marinating and maturing for several years (or even decades). I'm also aware that I'll generally have more to say about something I like, and that there's little point in reviewing an album I don't much like, given the whole point of this blog is to compare my favourite albums. This is a deadly combination that leads to insane writers block and, if dwelled upon too much, a sour taste for the music itself. So I thought I'd keep things fresh and review an album I've never listened to until two days ago.

I was a MySpace teenager (like you can't tell from the customised transparent banner I made for this blog) so I'd first heard of Lily Allen when she was on the brink of her breakthrough. Initially defined by a bold personal style (cocktail dress and trainers) and a quirky, vintage, ska-infused sound, Lily Allen was one of the biggest success stories of the indie music zeitgeist of the 00s. It soon became clear though that she wasn't the sort to sit primly in the niche she'd carved out for herself with her debut Alright, Still, and by the time Sheezus came around, Lily Allen had thoroughly made sure that her signature was her attitude, not her aesthetic.

Sheezus is essentially an electropop album - emphasis on the pop, with the electro seeping through in a largely subliminal way. You don't really notice how deeply you've been swimming in the electronic beats until URL Badman's dubstep chorus kicks in and tells you it's time for air. Typically the only electro not to manifest with overbearingly incessant energy is the kind of ambient, über-chill trip-hop of Massive Attack and the like. Sheezus, however, uses beats in a subtle, supportive way that maintains a calmness that isn't intrinsically atmospheric, instead finessing the music round the edges and helping to add flair to otherwise simple melodies. Together with Allen's clean, blasé style of vocalisation and quippy, unexpected rhymes, the result is a surprisingly sophisticated modern feminist manifesto of a nearly 30-year-old Lily Allen speaking her mind once more.

1. Hard Out Here
2. Insincerly Yours
3. Air Balloon
4. Close Your Eyes
5. As Long As I Got You
6. Somewhere Only We Know
7. Our Time
8. URL Badman
9. Sheezus
10. Silver Spoon
11. L8 CMMR
12. Take My Place
13. Life For Me
    (Exempt from total score: Interlude)

Total Points: 38/65
Average Score: 5.85

Lily Allen is never short of statements to make, but the real headliners are the ones that pack the most punch outside of just their lyrical content. This makes Hard Out Here the clear standout, a bold pop banger with social commentary that still feels current and relevant, Allen's sweet, crooning vocals licensing her to be extra cutting in her critique. Insincerely Yours is similarly audacious, but laid back and funky, less of an outright anthem but just as memorable. This is where the electronic timbres work best, elevating a pretty standard tune to match the excellent lyrics by beautifully balancing layers of intricate effects and precision beats. Close Your Eyes functions as an updated take on the 90s r'n'b slow jam, like TLC's Red Light Special, but white, British and post-childbirth - a little more self-deprecating and dysfunctional, but every bit as transparent and lustful, and polished with the same pristine sleekness that exemplifies the best of the album's tracks.

There are two main ways that the album wanes for me; one is in the clumpier overproduction suffered in songs like L8 CMMR and Sheezus - these songs rely a little too heavily on discombobulating effects and an almost satirical use of autotune and synth sounds that come across like intentionally sarcastic musical tropes. If they were positioned later in the tracklist, they'd take me right out of the listening experience. Speaking of which, the anomalously jolly and acoustic As Long As I Got You absolutely does this, smack bang in the middle of the album. The song itself is innocuous but its presence detracts from the album's otherwise synergistic mood.

The other way the album wanes is through an inherent sleepiness that dusts the slower, less vibrant songs, an issue that I also observed in 2009's It's Not Me, It's You. Allen's voice does not fluctuate in tone track to track, always set to a deadpan, lightly sassy medium-low. So when a lower energy song comes along, she's not working overtime to sell it, instead depending on the construction and content to do the work. Take My Place and Life For Me, though palpably heartfelt and personal to Allen, lack the necessary interest to keep them from being unfortunately boring, electronic embellishments unable to help out when the material is so languid to begin with. You can't aim for beauty in simplicity when Hard Out Here is right there on the same record.

Though not everything on the album is to my taste, I appreciate when an artist can really let me into their world and see things from their eyes, and that is what Lily Allen does best. She does it so directly it almost feels cheap - in fact, it does feel cheap in the songs with a less bombastic sound. But in the rest, master directional decisions and clarity of vision elevate Allen's opinions and observations into a true art, something that is as catchy and poppy as it is succinct and important. I don't think diving into music I've never heard before will always work for me - I think there was an element of luck this time round. I'm not always going to be able to just pick up an album and expect to have things to say about it. But I feel refreshed for having done it this time, so I'd say the experiment was a success.

Bloodsports (2013) - Suede

When it comes to Suede, a band who I'd count myself as an actual fan of, choosing the first of their works to appraise is a tough call. Unlike most of the bands who have a selection of records I intend to cover, one of their albums is a single obvious standout for me, and I don't want to sing its praises only for the remainder of my Suede reviews to pale in comparison. Additionally, I don't want the restriction of going through them chronologically. So I've decided to start with an album I do like, that has undeniable virtue, but also marks a turning point for the band that tends to get overlooked. Writing this review is difficult, not because I don't have plenty to say on the matter, but because (again, unlike many musical outfits whose discographies I consider myself to be well-versed in) Suede's catalogue is, in my mind, directly comparable. Rating their albums together in one humongous essay would provide an easier structure for me to follow and probably be helpful in conveying the reasons for their rankings. But I'm not about to put anyone through that kind of slog.

After parting ways in 2003, 2013's Bloodsports is Suede's first release since reforming, and sees a return to their initial 'rock band' sound, having become a little less rock and a little more electronic with each of their first 5 studio albums. If this whole album was performed live, it would sound very similar to the recorded version, with no need for any instrument substitutions or special allowances. This return to roots is surely a conscious decision - probably an intentional ricochet off their 2002 flop A New Morning, which was full of sunny, squeaky-clean production - a perfectly valid direction, but nothing like how they began, and provenly unpopular with the listening public. Bloodsports first and foremost fills out the plastic shell Suede previously left behind with meat, in the form of thumping, resonant drums and assertive guitars. I'll get straight to the rankings so we can go into more detail:

1. Hit Me
2. It Starts And Ends With You
3. Snowblind
4. Sometimes I Feel I'll Float Away
5. Barriers
6. What Are You Not Telling Me?
7. For The Strangers
8. Faultlines
9. Sabotage
10. Always

Total Points: 29/50
Average Score: 5.8

My three highest-rated tracks are the epitome of this booming, confrontational sound. The opening bars of Hit Me are banged out at full force, the drums almost primitive in their boldness, and the chorus is equally thundering - a proclamation of the band's mettle, and a literal bait to the person at whom the lyrics are directed. Songs with this loud and proud approach are a wonderful counterpoint to the poetic, eclectic prose woven throughout the record. Whereas previous albums keep their thematic subjects broad and are talked about in a generalised, observational fashion, Bloodsports is very intimately written, with songs sung 'to' someone, not simply 'about' them. This allows for some beautiful turns of phrase, raw and delicate, and articulated in a way that frontman Brett Anderson simply could never achieve without this much more vulnerable and personalised approach. These elegant verses carry through to the quieter, more ethereal moments too, which help break up what could otherwise be a rather dense procession. The most notable instance of this is the softly haunting Sometimes I Feel I'll Float Away, which speaks of the addressee's 'impossible eyes' and 'hairpin bends', elegantly characterising the kind of tension often present in the most complex emotional relationships.

One thing I do find fault with is that Bloodsports marks the first time the band takes a real turn for the dour. It's been an ongoing issue since their reunion - thankfully Bloodsports manages to retain some of their former spunk, but all the seeds of their current aura of gloom are planted within. There's such a tangible inclination now growing towards thick smogs of guitar and drawling, ominous vocals. Percussion begins to favour atmospheric punctuation rather than actual rhythm, and the vivid, sweet-and-sour swagger of 90s Suede is starting to give way to a funereal, grey rigidity. The biggest contributor to this is the change in how chords are utilised - before, there was such an interesting push and pull of major and minor, with chord progressions twisting like smirks and leaving you tantalised for the unexpected. Now, Suede errs increasingly towards the minor, and the chord sequences play like dirges, without sufficient yang to counter the yin. Luckily only a handful of tracks from Bloodsports suffer this fate but, come the next album, a whole host of songs are largely minor affairs, unseasoned with tangy inflections or the odd surprise. I'm no musical theorist, but this just means I can't accurately name what I'm identifying - you don't need to be a scholar to recognise when music loses its colour.

This blaring dichotomy between before and after hiatus is so strange to me. They're still Suede - they still sound like the same band - but it's like they've grown up. Physically, they have, of course, but Suede were never exactly immature to begin with. They always represented a knowing, outsider voice among the everyman's Britpop. If Britpop is a family, with Blur and Oasis as boisterous, competitive brothers, I like to think of Suede as the black sheep, that distant, estranged second cousin. They're more alternative, more in tune with the underground, and more worldly. No, this gloom isn't simply Suede growing older, they're also growing colder. The unrelentingly dreary Sabotage is the worst culprit, while Always makes an attempt at harking back to the edgier contours present in Dog Man Star, but unsuccessfully so, instead coming across unbearably listless. After Bloodsports, my interest in their studio output unfortunately wanes, as both of its successors continue to perpetuate their trajectory into bleakness.

I realise I'm now making Bloodsports out to be some kind of leaden requiem, but this is not the case. As I noted, the seeds of apparent sullenness are planted, but the forest is yet to grow. There's still plenty of life present, and the album does a lot to marry the best of Suede's various eras together. It may not have the hedonistic, youthful charisma of prior works, but it has such a bold and determined presence, and demonstrates incredible sensitivity and capability. It has a kind of competence that comes only to veteran artists, and they manage to tap, with expert dexterity, into so many of the impalpable characteristics that made them such a left-field powerhouse in the Britpop heyday. This alone shows that they never lost anything, they've just evolved, and continue to do so. I like to think of each Suede record as a stamp on an ever-growing timeline, and Bloodsports, though the beginning of a shift I don't necessarily respond to, represents a fulcrum in the band's sound that would be impossible anywhere else in time. Essentially, the best way to enjoy Bloodsports is to ignore the past and refrain from peering forward. Only when you blinker yourself this way can you become absorbed enough to appreciate it for what it is, without the contextual distractions that are, ultimately, the album's only real detractor.