“Is there anything I can do for you, dear? Anyone I can call?”, a concerned stranger asks to the young woman aimlessly walking down the street.
“No and thank you, please Madam,” the girl replies, “I ain’t lost, just wandering.”
South London-born soul/ pop newcomer Adele catches your attention with “Hometown Glory”, a stunningly beautiful tribute to her stomping grounds that carries a weighty melancholy in it’s storm-brewing instrumentation, yet finds lyrical poignancy in it’s simple appreciation of her surroundings.
As a heavy overcast of piano-and-strings engulf her in a gloomy haze of melodrama and mystery, Adele quickly turns away from whimsical observation (“I love to see everybody in short skirts, shorts and shades”) to take note of the tempestuous political war arising in the city. “You get the people and the government/ Everybody taking different sides,” she sings with a throaty, retro-shaded voice no nineteen-year-old should be in the possession of, “Shows that we ain’t gonna stand for shit/ Shows that we are united.”
Embracing the demonstrations of her fellow townsfolk alongside London’s comfy setting, Adele’s excited sense of pride shines through her emotional performance, her vocal traversing through jazzy peaks and valleys that add volumes to the song’s otherwise unfussy narrative. You hear that rumbling far off in this distance? It’s the oncoming heap of critical laudation sure to swarm around this amazing new talent.
Debuting as a sort of novelty tie-in to last year’s Snakes On A Plane hype curio, Cobra Starship make a commendable effort to move past their questionable beginnings, rallying Fall Out Boy’s soulful frontman Patrick Stump to produce and co-write their sophomore disc, Viva La Cobra.
Album track “Smile For The Paparazzi” follows the formula of the bands of their Decaydence circle, employing pop culture-fueled lyrical tricks and over-the-top musicality, while never completely reaching the heights that FOB, Gym Class Heroes or Panic! At The Disco can offer. A playful Latin shuffle (with infectious, Miami Sound Machine-borrowed chants intact) provides the track’s strongest base, adding a joyous tone to frontman Gabe Saporta’s sarcastic take on the ambitious drive of the Lindsay’s and Paris’ of the world (“Strike while the iron’s hot/ There ain’t that much room at the top”).
Unfortunately the band fail to come up with a chorus as fitting, suddenly shifting gears for a monolithic rock throwdown that would stand strong on it’s own, but feels anti-climactic juxtaposed against the giddy Latin escapades that arrive before and after. What results is an awkward mish-mash that doesn’t quite know how to balance all of it’s disparate elements. Cobra Starship might bear a similar sense of the witty, genre-meshing creativity found in their fellow groups, and “Paparazzi” isn’t a complete mess because of that, but a little better use of fluidity would’ve made this a whole lot more impressive.
Whereas “No One” was an exercise in ear-numbing vocal bombast, new single “Like You’ll Never See Me Again” thankfully lands on the opposite end of the volume spectrum: a sighing, lullaby-esque R&B ballad based in tender piano sprinkles, subtle guitar strains and a lightly tapped drum track that feels like a timeless classic being birthed before your aural cavity.
Reminiscent of Prince slow jams “Diamonds & Pearls” and “Adore” or Rose Royce’s “I’m Goin’ Down” at times, “Again” sees Keys stressing the importance of enjoying love now. Noting that “Lord only knows another day is not really guaranteed”, Keys urges her lover to embrace her as if they’ll never have the chance to be this intimate again. Her delicate delivery slides beneath your skin, initiating a pathway of goosebumps all across your body as her vocals organically build toward a dynamic finish. Launching with a breathy coo, Keys soon becomes overwhelmed with the desperate sentiment of her own pen work, her chops evolving into falsetto chirps and raspy, choked-back belts that will leave a knot in your throat from it’s overwhelming grandeur.
We always knew Keys had it in her to produce something as magical as this. If “If I Ain’t Got You” was her mid-term attempt, “Like You’ll Never See Me Again” is definitely the work of an A+ final. A breath-taking stroke of soul mastery.
In the 1990′s, David Gray was an acoustic folk-leaning, Welsh singer-songwriter whose introspective poetry and quaint arrangements earned applause from critics but not much commercial attention. All that suddenly changed in 2000 thanks to a series of good fortune thrown his way. Fanboy Dave Matthews elevated interest in Gray by signing him to his ATO label, while a subtle electronica accent embedded in Gray’s sound made his fourth album White Ladder and it’s gorgeously crafted breakout single “Babylon”, two of the year’s hottest musical releases. Two albums later, Gray celebrates the twists and turns of his fifteen-year-long career with a Greatest Hits compilation, featuring the new track, “You’re The World To Me”.
A lively piano-rock number that constructs an epic, highway-cruising atmosphere around his bellowed sincerity, “You’re The World To Me” chronicles a man realizing just how much his lover means to him. Haunted by what his existence has become following their split (“I woke up, the room was cold/ Lookin’ tired, feelin’ old”), Gray faces the high heavens and yells his heart’s yearn, as if the wind will carry his love note to the ears of his lady love and bring her back by his side.
It’s nice to hear Gray sounding so joyous and alive after spending the past couple of albums shrouded in darker tones and themes and at some points, beginning to lose his distinctiveness. “You’re The World To Me” returns David to the winning heights of his White Ladder days and it doesn’t even need the assistance of any small techno embeds to grab your ear. An intimate love song that makes a simple romantic declaration loom so large, “You’re The World To Me” may be positioned amongst songs from a previous era, but it signals a re-energized sense of song-making sure to bring Gray more good fortune with his upcoming work.
Longtime Bad Boy sideliner/ hook singer Cheri Dennis (you may remember her summery ’06 sweetener “I Love You”) makes another go for some solo shine on new single “Portrait of Love”, a nice dalliance with sleek, Prince-styled soul-funk.
Any other female adorned with the track’s galloping drum claps and simmering synth lasers would no doubt assume the role of a lip-licking, lingerie-clad Pussycat Doll-type character and Dennis flirts with that role, teasing that she’ll “be the only one to blow your mind and get you there”. But that’s the extent of any naughtiness she conveys, allowing the track’s oozing eroticism to play up the porno vibe as she projects intentions a bit more purer.
Yearning for something more long-lasting than a cheap, one-night stand, Cheri asks the Adonis before her for his help in illustrating the perfect portrait of true love. “This ain’t the Mona Lisa/ No Michelangelo picture,” the hook purrs, establishing the thought that what they would create together could be even more “classic” and “priceless” than those iconic works of art. The fact that it avoids obvious overtly sexual inclinations and plays with the mind a little (“It’s not unusual to want somebody more than physically,” she sings towards the fade-out) adds a seductive, virginal allure to the track.
Perhaps in fear that something a bit more creative than the usual wouldn’t survive as-is in today’s urban contemporary scene, labelmates Yung Joc and Gorilla Zoe are needlessly brought in, disrupting the flow with their trite, macho contributions. It’s a silly move that foolishly grounds “Portrait of Love” in a modern day context, instead of the more otherworldly R&B plane it would otherwise exist on. When will the execs learn that a marriage between hip hop and soul works the best when it feels organic, not forced?
Another English indie rock outfit for the UK press to prematurely go goo-goo-ga-ga over, Manchester’s The Courteeners haven’t even released a full album yet and are being touted as the “the next Arctic Monkeys” or “new Oasis”. Does second single “Acrylic” justify all the loony, “Second Coming” over-hype? Within it’s enjoyable, use of jangly guitars, urgent furor and melodic appeal, the band aren’t doing much groundbreaking here, but the song does instill the potential of them becoming a truly noteworthy presence in the near-future.
“You’re just like plasticine/ Being molded into a libertine dreamer,” frantic lead singer/ guitarist Liam Fray spews amidst the track’s spiraling indie-pop raucousness. Sounding like the critics who’ve derided the instantaneous praise his band has received in some circles, Fray’s irritance is directed at some musician named Jackie whose poseur stance boils his blood (“If you were thirteen I’d let you off/ But you’re not/ You should know better”). Humorously mocking the fan-approved senselessness of her songs in it’s insanely catchy chorus, Liam leads a rally to boot the despicable artist out of town (“Jackie you got no spine/ Please vacate this city of mine”), his overdramatic ire in perfect correlation with the current “everyone’s a critic” Blog Age.
Blessed with a commanding frontman, kinetic rock display and a pointed, industry-bashing lyric, “Acrylic” lands as a definite sing-along favorite. Now all they have to do is match this winning single with an equally likable album; then we can see if The Courteeners are really the “next best thing” or merely the latest “flavor of the month” sensation.
Another week, another hypnotic Dream song to love. The latest leak of his well-anticipated debut album, Love Hate, “I Love Your Girl” continues the R&B hitmaker’s knack for penning catchy hooks and the “dream”-iest of melodies.
Stunned by the beauty poppin’ and droppin’ in the middle of the dancefloor, Dream quickly discovers that the idea of “love at first sight” is no myth. “You might wanna rap/ But she’ll make you sing”, he exhales in that bird-like vocal of his, as fantasies of he and her together infiltrate his mind. Unfortunately, a roadblock forms in the guise of the man by her side and he’s surely caught on to Dream’s drooling gaze.
In true soul mack fashion, he’s able to swipe her for himself and vacate the club with her on his arm in the end (Like he would have it any other way). He later admits a bit of regret for such a scandalous move (“Part of me feels so bad/ But-ooh-not that bad!”) but this shawty was a dime he just couldn’t pass up. Same could be said for the precious “I Love Your Girl”, another mesmerizing entry only the deaf could deny.
As nice as it is to get free music, think of how much better your soul would feel if you purchased it the old-fashioned way.
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