Thursday, 26 November 2015
Where Will We Live?, from Changing Face Collective, is a real celebration of diversity. A verbatim play exploring gentrification in Brixton, its individual stories cover a whole range of cultures, ethnicities, backgrounds and skin colours. Brixton, we're told, is a melting pot of everything London has to offer, its own microcosm that lives and breathes with its community.
Yet there's anger here. Hyper-regeneration has hiked up house prices, meaning local people are losing their homes, their livelihoods, their friends and family. In turn, Brixton itself is losing its identity. This is a play of revolution lent a powerful potency by its verbatim script from actual Brixton residents, accompanied by restless percussion that adds a simmering sense of urgency. It gives voice to a community fighting and failing to be heard.
As a play, it suffers the fate of much verbatim theatre: individually there are some striking stories, but they don't gel into a cohesive piece. Instead they hang loosely together, but it's the percussion not the narrative that creates a driving force.
Further the politics feels a little over-simplified. Black and white are distinct binary opposites - black residents provide the heart, soul and rhythm of Brixton, whilst white residents are amusingly naive in their unwitting participation in the process of gentrification. Are the residents simply searching for a scapegoat? They certainly find it in Christopher Sherwood's two Councillors who essentially perform the same role: almost comically incompetent villains. The play's ultimate point is that Brixton is a place of equality, where there is room for all cultures, but the play itself doesn't give the myriad of opinions and views equal weight.
There's a fine line, though, between education, entertainment and guilt-inducing lecturing - a line that Where Will We Live? treads carefully. There are some credible and heartbreaking performances - in particular from Ayesha Casely-Hayford and Olivette Cole-Wilson. This play is political fire and deserves longer than its limited run.
Watch: Where Will We Live? runs at the Southwark Playhouse from 25th-28th November.
Wednesday, 25 November 2015
Watching Steve Jobs, it’s clear that the man in question undoubtedly had a flair for the theatrical. So too does Ridley Scott, whose famously dramatic advert for the Apple Macintosh release in 1984 was considered one of the biggest marketing events of the time and remains, until now, the biggest cinematic event in Apple’s history.
That extends to director Danny Boyle and screenplay writer Aaron Sorkin, whose depiction of Jobs here is particularly theatrical. Divided into three distinct acts, the film details the events of three product launches in 1984, 1988 and 1998, something the company (and Jobs) has become renowned for. It’s a conceit based on repetition, as we witness the growth of Apple itself and the rise in success of Jobs, the screen literally morphing from scuzzy low-fi 80s filters to a modern clarity. Although we never see Jobs in action delivering his speeches, we see the juxtaposition of his innovative mind with the crumbling relationships he holds with his colleagues and family and, as the years progress, the film’s very structure invites comparison between each act.
It’s certainly a clever idea, creating a film that’s ripe for analysis and discussion. Yet it also feels cold, mechanical and forced. It’s as if Sorkin is trying too hard to be clever in his screenplay, a screenplay that oscillates between endless business and computer jargon spat like bullets in corridor arguments, and wry self-knowing humour – Jobs questions at one point late on why these people always wants to have conversations before an event. The irony of the action taking place in a Symphony Hall isn't lost, with reality dramatized like a musical theme and variation. What’s missing is Boyle’s usual flair for flashy visuals, pop culture and music (the score alternates between Kraftwerk-esque computer bleeps and melodramatic classical music). The result is a film that feels overly-structured, prescribed and lacks a sense of heart – we have little reason to emotionally invest in these characters or care about events, no matter how urgently Sorkin thrusts them in our face. This is far more his film than Boyle’s.
In so many ways, then, the film mirrors its subject matter, portrayed in a remarkable performance from Michael Fassbender (with amusing support from Kate Winslet as Jobs' assistant with a wavering Eastern European accent). The key quote from the film comes from Seth Rogen’s Steve Wozniak: “it’s not binary. You can be decent and gifted at the same time”. For Jobs, though, it’s very much binary. Here is a self-professed “conductor of the orchestra”, a man who thrives on seeing the bigger picture. He’s arrogant, condescending, manipulative. He understands people, their requirements, and how to distill that into technology. Yet he lacks emotional intelligence and fails at sustaining almost all of his relationships – specifically that with his daughter, Lisa.
In short, he’s an arsehole.
In many ways, then, Steve Jobs is a typical film about an overtly intelligent geek wedded more to his work than his family, and its structure and mise en scene mirror this. It’s a film about a man who refuses to admit his faults, who appears almost superhuman. And it’s about a control freak who overpowers everyone and everything he meets (similarly to how Sorkin’s style smothers everything else the film has to offer).
But most of all it’s a meditation on the meaning of genius. As the film’s final moments suggest, a genius is someone who inspires, with Jobs appearing almost godlike awash in celestial light. It’s the overblown climax to a film that is essentially porn for Apple aficionados. Jobs may have been an inspiring figure, but the film itself doesn’t provoke that same feeling.
Watch: Steve Jobs is out now.
Monday, 23 November 2015
You know when a song or an artist just seems to get you? When lyrics, melodies and emotions have a profound resonance with your own feelings?
That’s the reason Adele’s ‘21’ was so successful. Her songs have such depth of truth, yet are general enough for everyone to relate to her. Except me. At 21, Adele was experiencing things I never had. Perhaps I was a late bloomer. Perhaps Adele was old before her time. Perhaps both. Now, a few years down the line, I can finally appreciate her songwriting. At times it feels like ‘25’ was written and performed just for me, like she’s cracked open my mind and expressed things more musically and poetically than I could ever imagine. At last I can say: “I get you Adele and she gets me”.
Thematically, with ‘25’ Adele continues to work in broad brushstrokes, with layered meanings we can interpret in our own way. It’s meant to be an album laced with nostalgia as she looks back and reflects on her past, a theme she originally depicted in breakout hit Hometown Glory. When We Were Young is her most obvious expression of this here, as if she’s singing through a sepia filter: “You look like a movie, you sound like a song”. Million Years Ago, meanwhile, is more an exploration of how her life has changed and the cost of fame she so doggedly eschews – addressing people from her past she sings “They can’t look me in the eye, it’s like they’re scared of me”. And with River Lea she looks to her past, specifically Tottenham where she grew up, as the cause of the emotional turmoil she’s suffered. For a handful of songs, it feels like ‘25’ has a very different emotional resonance than ‘21’ and for one brief moment (the Max Martin penned Send My Love (To Your New Lover)) it seems that Adele is finally over heartbreak.
It doesn’t last, though. Opener Hello might be ambiguous as to who is on the receiving end of her phone calls (a lover, or her past self?), but soon Adele settles into familiar heartbreak mode. Love In The Dark, specifically, is one of her most visceral and haunting break-up songs sung from the flip-side of her usual position – here Adele is the one being “cruel to be kind”. “It is the world to me that you are in my life”, she sings, “but I want to live and not just survive”, swelling strings and piano layering the tears to breaking point. Water Under The Bridge has more confliction of emotion: “If you’re not the one for me, why do I hate the idea of being free?”. Later there’s All I Ask, co-written with Bruno Mars - with its simple piano arrangement and key change it feels like the most melodramatic song on the album, something Adele has never been, though it’s questioning “what if I never love again?” lyric is a gut-puncher. Even I Miss You, the album’s darkest most sexually charged moment, is tinged with sadness (“I miss you when the lights go out”).
There is positivity here, though. With its laughing children, there’s no doubt as to who album closer Sweetest Devotion is aimed at, with Adele finding in her child the “sweetest devotion” she never found elsewhere. And for the rest of us, there’s the Ryan Tedder penned Remedy. Sure, it may be a little self-gratifying, but for many of us Adele’s music really is a “remedy” to our own heartbreak.
If the lyrical content is sometimes too familiar, then sonically ‘25’ has the same bluesy, gospel tinged sound and often lacks a raw edge. At times it even borders on Radio 2 easy listening mode, even though there’s nothing easy about listening to such emotive songwriting. Working with Greg Kurstin on Hello perhaps hinted at a more pop-orientated sound, its production equally at home on mainstream radio and beyond. That continues with Send My Love (To Your New Lover), by far the most ‘pop’ moment of the album. Later, Water Under The Bridge has a sort of Jessie Ware coolness to it with its muted guitars (also produced by Kurstin), but anyone expecting Adele to go full electro-pop or put a donk on her music will be left wanting. Of course she would probably never do that, but it does exemplify a lack of experimentation with ‘25’. Most of the album is a stripped back affair which allows the emotion to take the fore, but also exposes how the songwriting just isn’t quite as good as ‘21’, lacking that same emotional resonance and those memorable moments.
Even “not quite as good” Adele, though, is still a remarkable singer-songwriter, who makes music out of personal tragedy and is a voice for us all, a voice that is deep and rich and powerful and loaded with feeling. She is a soul singer not just in that her voice is soulful, but in that it cuts through to our own souls and strips us to our core. ‘25’ may not hit the dizzying heights of ‘21’, but then she was never going to do that, was she?
* Send My Love (To Your New Lover)
* Love In The Dark
* Love In The Dark
Listen: ‘25’ is available now.
Thursday, 19 November 2015
The Hunger Games series is something of a paradox in cinema. Where the books get worse, the films actually get better.
By the time we hit Mockingjay, the third and final book of the series, Collins seemingly scrapped her established formula and left us with a fantastical and sometimes nonsensical war story that quickly fizzles out and loses the tension of the previous books. Yet with the films, the war narrative is more obviously a twist on the formula. Just like before, Katniss is a pawn primed for some big event (Part I) and in Part II we finally see her in action. More so, the two Mockingjay films turn a dystopian fantasy into a frightening reality – more than ever Katniss is a soldier and the use of handheld cameras, night vision, militaristic action and war-torn rubble-strewn streets creates a sense of a complete yet grim world that is utterly plausible and always compelling.
Part II is very much a continuation of Part I and begins exactly where it left off – after agreeing to the war propaganda of District 13’s leader President Coin (Julianne Moore), Katniss (Jennifer Lawrence) fully embodies the Mockingjay symbol, whilst eventually Peeta (Josh Hutcherson) is rescued from the Capitol but has been psychologically re-programmed to fear Katniss (I saw the two films in a double bill, something that comes highly recommended). Vowing to save her family and loved ones, the determined protagonist sneaks off to the Capital to bring the war to President Snow (Donald Sutherland) and assassinate him – that is before things take a political and tragic turn. It’s a set up that allows for a clever riff on the formula, with the Capitol itself becoming an arena for Snow’s sadistic traps.
This in turn allows for the tense action sequences largely missing from Part I. One particular sequence in the sewers verges on horror film as director Francis Lawrence plays with expectations and will have you on the edge of your seat, whilst the use of sound alternates between rousing score and terrifying moments of pause and silence. The gloomy visuals throughout lend the film a sense of emotional weight and gritty realism rarely seen in films of this sort – you often have to pinch yourself that this is a film aimed at young adults.
And then there’s the ending. The films may improve on the books, but they still can’t alleviate the dissatisfying conclusion. As one character notes, “no one wins the Hunger Games” and that, seemingly, includes the audience. The overall outcome may be positive, but there are major sacrifices from certain characters that lack emotional punch and are clearly sign-posted throughout; the love triangle ultimately disappoints (#TeamGale); and the revenge story fizzles into politics. Then, just as with the final Harry Potter film, there’s an awkward epilogue that undermines the steely determination of Katniss as modern feminist role model, especially disappointing after so much of the film rides on Lawrence’s tough and believable performance. Elsewhere there are watchable performances from the supporting cast despite being side-lined, though the tragic death of Philip Seymour Hoffman has thankfully not affected the storytelling.
It’s all incredibly sombre and pessimistic, leaving you depressed and deflated. Perhaps, though, that’s the point. What began as a series condemning the media, reality TV and class divides has evolved into a comment on war, its futility and its psychological impacts – something far beyond the aspirations of most emo young adult novels/films. There’s undoubtedly an extra layer of poignancy to this latest film after the recent attacks in Paris; indeed, we live in a time of political strife, refugee crises and wars against terrorism. To that end The Hunger Games is the young adult franchise of the generation, the young adult franchise modern society deserves.
Watch: Mockingjay: Part II is out now.
Tuesday, 17 November 2015
Are 1D better off without Zayn?
There's certainly an argument for it. Aside from blank pouty stares, Malik was essentially deadweight to the band - he offered little in the way of songwriting, occasionally sang some falsetto money notes, and refused to dance. So far, the band seem to be doing fine without him thank you very much, whilst Malik is free to pursue a career making his beloved R&B music that's probably doomed to fail.
On the flip side, perhaps he wisely got out early. If 'Made In The A.M.' is anything, it's the sound of a boyband grown tired and weary, dragging their heels onto the stage to perform to endless hordes of tinnitus-inducing fans. Perfect may imitate Taylor Swift in its construction, but it equally depicts the boys' superstar status and their inability to hold down a relationship. They are far from normal and one argument for their imminent hiatus is that they crave normality.
For better or worse, 1D have essentially turned into Coldplay with rock ballad after rock ballad. This is by far their most emotional album to date, with grandly evocative song titles like Perfect, Infinity and If I Could Fly coupled with downbeat melodies and an utterly dejected vocal delivery. Even the album's arguably most loving moment, What a Feeling, sounds wistful and distant.
Added to that are the constant farewells. This album campaign may have begun with the boys singing "nobody can drag me down", but the album at large suggests otherwise: End of the Day, Love You Goodbye, History. It's obvious this is the end of an era, seemingly inspired as much by the departure of Malik as their uncertain future.
It's commendable that the boys have written their own music and it's easy to see the progression of their songwriting ability across their output. 'Made In The A.M.' is their most complete and confident album to date, but what's missing is a sense of pop fun. Drag Me Down may be the catchiest and most radio friendly moment, but it's not until Never Enough that we finally hear the boys sonically let loose. It's followed by Olivia, with an amusingly descending hook that could only have been written by Mr Styles.
1D are meant to be a pop band. Yet what's missing from 'Made In The A.M.' is a Kiss You, a Diana, a Little White Lies or a Stockholm Syndrome. The boys may have matured over the last five years, but they've also grown thoroughly depressing. Money, fame and success clearly aren't everything.
Maybe Zayn was right to quit after all.
* Drag Me Down
* Never Enough
* What a Feeling
Listen: 'Made In The A.M.' is available now.
Many Scandinavian artists are known for their icy cool. But for the most part, Sweden's Kate Boy have dropped the icy and kept the cool. They're closer to The Knife and Niki & The Dove than, say, iamamiwhoami.
There's still a sense of frigid cold and cool detachment to much of 'One', but it feels more grounded, more earthy. Its sound is dry, percussive, and almost tribal with a focus on shuddering rhythmic beats. That's only heightened by Australian-born Kate Akhurst's vocal, which ranges from deep and menacing to primal, animalistic calling and always sounds faintly threatening.
Just listen to Higher, the album's major highlight. The beats thump, the synths twinkle, the vocal is guttural, and the last minute is amongst the best pop moments of the year as it erupts in a wave of pure euphoria. Close your eyes and let the magic wash over you.
This same formula is repeated throughout, creating an album of shouted choruses and insistent beats. It makes the line "it's adrenaline that you're traveling" from Lion For Real seem like something of an understatement, the beats visceral to the point of erupting into your ears. Even if the lyrical content borders on shallow, there's a deep rooted dynamic energy to the music that provides plenty of feeling and is guaranteed to get your feet shuffling, from the wordless chorus hook of Midnight Sun, to the darkly dramatic Human Engine and its crystalline synth explosion, and the shuddering funk bass of Run As One.
That said, it's no coincidence the album is called 'One', and not only because it's the band's debut. There is a singular sound to the album that does begin to grate as repetitiveness sinks in. And considering their first EP, 'Northern Lights' was released back in 2012, it's disappointing to see a lack of development.
Equally, the band display economy of sound, creating a whole album of urgent pop from a limited palette. With electro-pop so prevalent in Scandinavia, Kate Boy have managed to carve a sound that's all their own, full of nagging hooks, a unique vocal, and production with an alluringly dark edge.
* Midnight Sun
* Run As One
Listen: 'One' is available now.
Monday, 16 November 2015
The title may not give much away, but Four Minutes Twelve Seconds covers some difficult and poignant themes. The rise in popularity of social media and smart phones has coincided with a rise in revenge porn and depictions of rape. As teenagers grow up at an ever increasing pace, how can parents protect them?
That's the conundrum at the heart of this play from author James Fritz, that's recently transferred from the Hampstead Theatre. With its minimalist staging and fidgety electronic soundtrack, this is an intense and morally ambiguous one act play. When their son is beaten up by his ex-girlfriend's brother and father after a video bordering on rape appears online, Di and David are pushed to moral breaking point. Slowly the narrative unfurls as the layers are teased and peeled back through short scenes that often end before key moments of dialogue, keeping us guessing as we choose sides between a father who believes he is protecting his son and a mother torn between her family and her own moral code.
There's a clever void in the play: the absence of the son himself. It ensures we're never quite sure who or what to believe. Is the son a rapist? What exactly constitutes rape? What should his punishment be, and who should deal it? By not giving him a voice it means we never quite hear the truth. The power, therefore, is in the hands of Cara, the ex-girlfriend - only she (and we) can truly judge.
Except we do eventually hear the truth. Half way through we discover who really uploaded the video online. On a narrative level it's a disappointing twist that doesn't quite feel believable and loses a sense of mystery. Thematically, however, it throws things wide open, the themes of pornography and parenting expanded into a wider context of sexism. It's this that makes the show such a vital piece of theatre.
So too does the performance of Kate Maravan as Di. In a superb cast, her performance stands out as the backbone of the narrative. She may begin as a mouthy and overly-protective mother, but we slowly witness her fall apart as she questions the actions of her son and her own morality. We may not agree with her attempts at a resolution, but could we really do any better in her place?
Watch: Four Minutes Twelve Seconds runs at the Trafalgar Studios until 5th December.
Photo: Ikin Yum
Friday, 13 November 2015
This might come as a shock to some people. After all, he’s the precocious little brat with floppy hair who sang that annoying Baby song and abuses monkeys. Right?
Still, it’s been six years since Bieber’s first single and in that time he’s grown up a hell of a lot. Well, sort of. But with ‘Purpose’ he’s turned a corner. He’s now, sort of, cool again.
That’s what happens when you come back with a song like Where Are Ü Now with Jack Ü. That song has informed the whole sound of this new album: a dash of Skrillex’s syncopated beats, a sprinkling of Diplo’s polished R&B production, and a whole dose of The Weeknd’s melancholic melodies and crooning falsetto. It’s not hard to see how, with his latest (and hugely popular) hit singles, Bieber has cornered the market for happy-sad dance-pop.
The key song here is Sorry. Sure, it embodies this 2015 ‘Bieber sound’, but more so it’s an apology in more ways than one, summing up his career so far and marking a turning point for the future. Is this simply a love song to a former lover? Is Selena Gomez laughing back at him? Is he apologising to his fans for all his bullshit mishaps over the last few years? Is he apologising to God after rediscovering his Christian faith? Or maybe it’s simply an apology to OG Mally, the poor little monkey left behind in Bieber’s dust?
The apologetic tone extends to other songs from ‘Purpose’ too: I’ll Show You in particular with its chorus lyric “This life’s not easy…don’t forget that I’m human”. And that, seemingly, stems from faith. Bieber still struggles to sing a ballad and it’s faith that results in the album’s most saccharine moments. On Life Is Worth Living, he again asks for forgiveness through a string of religious symbolism, whilst Purpose practically addresses God directly - “I put my heart into your hands, here’s my soul to keep, I let you in with all that I can, you’re not hard to reach” – before a spoken word section quite literally preaches to the listener. Children, meanwhile, is more of a banger but still preaches to us about making a difference for the next generation. It’s nice to see Bieber trying to make a statement with his music, but the religious enlightenment seems at odds with not only the heavy beats but with his general “bad boy” behaviour.
Look past that and there’s still a lot of great pop to enjoy here, mixing sensitive lyrics with contemporary sounds. Tracks like I’ll Show You, Company and Been You continue on from the singles with infectious rhythms and vibrant, polished pop-dance production. And whilst the collaborations aren’t the most original tracks, No Pressure feat. Big Sean has a pleasingly old school 90s Usher vibe (perhaps in a nod to his old mentor), No Sense feat Travi$ Scott is clearly inspired by Kanye West, and The Feeling feat Halsey is a decent electro-pop ballad.
Sure, the production outweights the songwriting, Bieber’s vocal isn’t always that strong, and the three singles already released are the best the album has to offer. But who would’ve thought at the start of the year that Justin Bieber, of all people, would go on to release three of the best singles of 2015?
* What Do You Mean?
* Where Are Ü Now
Listen: 'Purpose is out now.
Wednesday, 11 November 2015
This. Is. Long. Seriously, it may have been a couple of years since 2013’s rebundled ‘Halycon Days’, but does that mean Goulding has to include every song she’s written since on this new album? The standard version of ‘Delirium’ is sixteen songs long. The deluxe takes things up to twenty two. The Target version extends to twenty five. And that’s before the inevitable rebundle next year or whenever that probably doubles the track list.
The thing is, even with such a long list of songs, ‘Delirium’ is really quite enjoyable. It’s perfectly reasonable that after listening for five hours and realising you’re still only half way through, you hadn’t really noticed the time going by as you sit back and enjoy the bangers. There isn’t a bad song here. There just aren’t many great ones either. And that's not necessarily value for money.
What’s also remarkable is that either Greg Kurstin, Max Martin, Ryan Tedder or Savan Kotecha appear on almost every track in either songwriting or production capacity. In short, that means Goulding has worked with the globe’s top pop talent, as if she’s taken all their scraps and put them together in one album. Of course, Goulding herself has co-written the majority of tracks. But where the present talent ensures a certain base level of quality, the album never rises above this.
Gone are the folky guitars of debut ‘Lights’ (remember them?). Gone are the experimental electronics and dub-step wobbles of ‘Halcyon’. Instead, we’re left with endless EDM pop that pretty much all sounds the same. It’s streamlined, distilling Goulding’s sound into a 2015 palette through the filter of the songwriters and producers responsible for so much other music that’s currently popular. ‘Delirium’ does nothing to experiment, to expand her audience, to prove to naysayers that she’s more than a pop artist with a squeaky voice.
Just as it’s hard to pick a worst song (though Keep On Dancin’s incessant whistling is incredibly annoying), it’s hard to pick out a favourite. So few of the songs stand out above the crowd. You’ll recognise a handful of tracks released in the run up to the full album: the throbbing Something In The Way You Move; X-Factor-esque ballad Army; and Ed Sheeran diss single On My Mind that thankfully brings something a little different. You’ll also recognise Fifty Shades slow burner Love Me Like You Do and 2014’s single with Calvin Harris Outside. The remains of the album may be new but already sounds oh so familiar. Lost and Found is at least reminiscent of early Goulding, and Devotion puts a donk on the familiar.
A fair amount of trimming and a dash of originality could’ve raised this to 2015 pop highlight. Instead, ‘Delirium’ is distinctly middle of the road and will leave you feeling quite the opposite of its namesake.
* On My Mind
* Lost and Found
Listen: ‘Delirium’ is available now.
Monday, 9 November 2015
Yes, ‘Art Angels’ is a more mainstream “pop” album than Grimes’ last album, the electronic squelchy ‘Visions’. But what does that even mean? After all, this is Grimes we’re talking about, the brainchild of Claire Boucher. This new album is just as experimental as the last. Did you really think she’d be tied to one genre? Or indeed, the concept of genre at all?
‘Art Angels’ is less focussed, but as a whole a more interesting album that takes in a huge spectrum of influences. Opener laughing and not being normal has a Baroque feel with its stately strings and Boucher’s almost choirboy falsetto vocals, introducing the album with a sense of quiet dignity before it all goes bonkers. There’s the West Coast jangling guitars of California; the punk screams of Scream; the pop rock of album highlight Flesh Without Blood; the folk feel of Belly of the Beat; the pulsing K-pop of Kill V. Maim; the ‘Ray of Light’ era Madonna influence of the title track; the dance vibes of Realiti; the video game bloops of World Princess part II. And more. ‘Art Angels’ is all of these things and none of them.
Really, Boucher has an ear for pop melody and that happy-sad thing that all good pop has, yet equally a complete punk disregard for style and genre. She doesn’t quite operate in a vacuum – after all, you can pick out her influences – but not once does she attempt to conform to expectations. She takes the familiar and twists it into something new and unique, yet retains a sense of melody and hook writing that’s not quite immediate, but definitely palatable to mainstream tastes. That may seem oxymoronic, but that’s Grimes. She doesn't always make sense (just look at the videos, or the cover art) but it's fun and enjoyable nonetheless.
At times, then, ‘Art Angels’ is exquisite. Flesh Without Blood is grade A pop full of infectious rhythms and a beat full of tiny details from hand claps to cartoon whip effects, whilst the lyrics and yearning melodies seemingly narrate a failing relationship (“if you don’t need me, just let me go”), even though she doesn’t “write about love anymore” according to Twitter. Pin absolutely nails happy-sad pop, its heavily processed beat juxtaposed with lyrics loaded with reminiscence (“falling off the edge with you, it was too good to be true”). Realiti is probably the closest to what we’re used to with Grimes, yet still sounds like nothing else. Butterfly later closes the album with a complete change of pace, all buoyant African rhythms and jangling guitars underpinned by a thumping beat.
It’s not a perfect album. SCREAM, for starters, is terrible. Venus Fly features Janelle Monáe, but is far from either artist’s best work. Life In The Vivid Dream is the only slow track, ending all too abruptly. And as a whole, ‘Art Angels’ is definitely a challenging album. But listen closely and it’s undeniably rewarding. Despite the occasional misfire, Grimes is a totally individual artist. And in this day and age, that is a rare and beautiful thing. That title couldn’t be more fitting.
* Flesh Without Blood
Listen: ‘Art Angels’ is out now.