A team of researchers led by Dr. Hans Larsson from McGill University has made a key discovery in the process by which creatures evolved from aquatic to terrestrial animals. The study used the Polypterus fish as a means to investigate phenotypic evolutionary changes.
There are a lot of expectations that come with attending university for the first time. These are invariably promoted in society in the form of movies portraying university life, stories passed down through generations, blurbs in magazines and mental pictures derived from books. However, many of these assumptions are actually myths. (more…)
Osheaga is over, and with the the end of one of the most anticipated festivals of the summer, Montreal seems to have settled down before the hectic frenzy of back-to-school season. But while most international bands have returned to their homes, sometimes an ocean away, much of the talent at the eighth installment of Osheaga included up-and-coming local acts whose work you will likely be able to follow closely and see in concert throughout the school year. Here’s our list of four Montreal bands to keep on your radar:
1. Jimmy Hunt
One of this year’s few francophone Osheaga acts, Jimmy Hunt kept festivalgoers dancing with an energetic performance that showcased his impressive vocal range and his ability to make both soulful shoegaze tunes as well as lively pop-rock. The Quebec City native has been gaining traction in the national folk scene, with recent nominations for the SOCAN Songwriting Prize and the 2014 Polaris Music Prize. Though Hunt’s arrangements are fundamentally simple, he manages to keep an upbeat energy on live shows that is both intriguing and refreshing.
2. Kaytranada
The scorching early afternoon sun couldn’t keep people from dancing to Kaytranada’s smooth hip hop and lounge beats. The Montreal DJ and producer brought his atmospheric and electronic beats to the Piknic Electronik stage of Osheaga, including a funky tribute to Michael Jackson. Kaytranada, who made a name for himself by posting his music for free on streaming sites and recently signed with renowned UK label XL Recordings, has been rising in the electronic scene, giving fans a chance to simultaneously watch him gain fame and experience his music .
3. Joëlle Saint-Pierre
Joëlle Saint-Pierre’s Osheaga debut highlighted her training as a classical percussionist, mixing the francophone singer-songwriter’s mellow vibraphone arrangements with her soothing vocals. Saint-Pierre’s music, reminiscent of Coeur de Pirate, translates to an intimate, calming live acoustic act and perfectly manicured recordings. Stay tuned for her upcoming album, due to be released sometime before the end of 2014.
4. Half Moon Run
After playing festival stages such as Lollapalooza and Glastonbury in 2013 and Governors Ball earlier this summer, as well as touring with Mumford and Sons, the members of Half Moon Run are no stranger to performing for large, enthusiastic crowds. Still, coming home to Montreal infused their show with the energy of playing in the city where their musical journey took off. Playing the main stage of Osheaga just a few hours before the headliners, the trio played a heartfelt set to an eager crowd of longtime fans. The band has announced that it plans to spend the next few months dedicating itself to a new album still in the works, so live appearances may become sparse once it submerges itself in the recording process.
Since its founding in 1983, the annual Just for Laughs event throughout Montreal has been bringing in show-stopping comedians and joyfully tearful tourists from all over the globe. This year, the Tribune invaded the largest comedy festival in the world to observe and interview four of the comics featured.
Adrienne Truscott
(adriennetruscott.com)
Adrienne Truscott may be new to the world of stand-up comedy, but the performance artist is evidently familiar enough with the medium to make it the message of her show, “Asking For It”.
The show, featuring Truscott in just a shirt and shoes, was a pointed commentary about rape jokes in comedy, with critical barbs directed at several male comics who made rape jokes—including a particular rant aimed at TV personality Daniel Tosh, who made headlines in 2012 for his rape joke as a response to a heckler. Two main points to keep in mind throughout Truscott’s set: she is a performance artist through and through—every tense moment is designed to prove a point—and, as eloquently stated early on in the performance, “rape is rude”. With these two concepts noted, the show can be analyzed as what it is: not just a comedy show, but also a critique of the comedic landscape.
Despite the heavy subject matter and calculatedly awkward atmosphere, her comedic chops still shined through in spades. Truscott swiftly followed up every awkward silence with a self-referential joke, which sliced through the tension with a roar of laughter, and her projections of male faces superimposed on her bare vagina were incredibly creative. Most importantly, the show got the audience’s mental gears churning as to what was wrong with the current pop culture landscape, from the six male comics whose rape jokes served as lambasting fuel for Truscott’s performance to Flo Rida’s pop-rap hit “Whistle”, a thinly-veiled plea for oral sex.
By bringing these misogynist nuggets of pop culture into focus, Truscott really demonstrated how messed up the current landscape is—even before the show began, “Blurred Lines” was played as background music while audience members filed into the cabaret space. By the end of the night, the song was a reminder of how embedded invocations of rape or lack of consent are in society. Truscott’s performance used humour and over-the-top ironic embracing of the topic to deftly highlight a pervasive, difficult-to-discuss issue with a unique flair.
—Matt Bobkin
Paul F. Tompkins
(paulftompkins.com)
Paul F. Tompkins, host of what Rolling Stone called the best “Comedy Podcast of the Moment” in 2011, was the emcee of “Paul F. Tompkins & Friends Real and Imagined”. This act featured stand-up from Tompkins as himself and two different characters, interspersed by sets from two up-and-comers. Tompkins’ set as himself found the tuxedo-clad comedian riffing heavily with the audience, and his charismatic performance was both charming and hilarious.
Prone to fits of spontaneous yelling, Tompkins brought his show to a great start before ushering to the stage Australian comedian Demi Lardner. Lardner’s delivery was muted and conversational but her stealthy punchlines caught the audience unaware several times, and the 20-year-old proved that while her comedy career was younger than Tompkins’, age was no issue with regard to humour on a professional scale.
Tompkins returned as a caricaturized Andrew Lloyd Webber, complete with cape and top hat. As a stereotypical British gentleman, jokes were made about Canada’s maintained observance of the British monarchy before giving way to a set about Webber’s musicals. While Tompkins stayed in character, the set felt drawn-out and even laughter from those who understood the jokes about musicals waned by the end of the set, which featured a hypothetical musical featuring several of Webber’s characters.
The second “real friend” of the night was Ontario’s Mark Forward, whose awkward, sparse mumbling earned numerous waves of laughter from the audience. Forward has a real talent for mining silences, but his best moments were when he abandoned his initial persona and actually began telling jokes. His observations about parenting in 2014 were smart and well-executed, and his punchlines landed well.
Tompkins finished the night as the Cake Boss, an imitation of television personality Buddy Valastro. While this initially came off as another trite impersonation, the bit really took off when he introduced the character’s quirk of being able to see into the future. Improvising outlandish scenarios based on audience suggestions, Tompkins finished the show off with a fresh take on what could have been another rehash of a specific celebrity niche.
—Matt Bobkin
Ari Shaffir ft. Greg Proops, Bright Okpocha, and TJ Miller
(laughstub.com)
Ari Shaffir’s webseries-turned-Comedy Central show “This is Not Happening” features comics telling personal anecdotes based on a common theme, and the night’s theme was family and youth. Shaffir kicked the night off with a story about his once-wealthy family’s fall from financial grace, juxtaposing his father’s incarceration with eight-year-old Shaffir’s selfish desire for a video game to success in the form of raucous audience laughter.
The rest of the comics didn’t disappoint: Greg Proops, the self-proclaimed “Smartest Man in the World” waxed poetic about the drug-addled world of pizza delivery in the 1970s, and his verbose turns of phrase were hilarious and helped to propagate his moniker.
Nigerian-born Bright Okpocha, also known as Basketmouth, delivered a set about growing up in Nigeria in a hilarious deadpan that garnered tons of laughs while also carrying an undercurrent of seriousness regarding the trivialities of the other comics’ life experiences. Equal parts hysterical and thought-provoking, Basketmouth delivered a great set to keep the show rolling.
TJ Miller, fresh off the success of the first season of HBO comedy Silicon Valley, brought his simultaneously wild yet laid-back persona out as he rifled through several stories from his youth, including a charismatic and entertaining story about his first time drinking. Finishing off the night was Daily Show correspondent Al Madrigal, who recounted a tale centred on family from the perspective of being a parent. Detailing his attempt to watch his daughter’s dance recital dress rehearsal, Madrigal’s exasperated delivery and creative story closed the show out on a high note.
—Matt Bobkin
Nikki Glaser
(nikkiglaser.com)
The Just for Laughs festival picked an interesting stage for Nikki Glaser to perform on last week. On one hand, the Katacombes venue is known for its underground Goth, punk, and metal scenes. Contrast this with Nikki Glaser’s wide-smiling, happy-go-lucky stand-up, and you’d have felt like Hades invited a female Dionysus for a soirée.
“This guy held the door for me […] and he was like, ‘stay beautiful’. And then […] he just left,” she noted. “I was like—is that a threat?”
And cue the laughter. Her quirky, ridiculous humour had her audience wrapped around her finger. The show played on the “I KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN!” branch of humour, but regularly took one of Glaser’s signature turns for the unexpected.
“It’s hard to babysit, because it’s like you’re their mother—but you don’t love them!” she continued.
Online dating, eating Subway (“because I’m a foodie”), and at one point, explaining why high school pregnancy frees up more time following university, the material continued to entertain.
Glaser is in her figurative 20s, hails from Cincinnati, Ohio, and has starred in programs such as Jay Leno’s The Tonight Show, CONAN, Last Comic Standing, and the MTV programs that she hosted, Nikki & Sara LIVE and the You Had to be There podcasts.
There were a few slowed pauses in her performance when she seemed to be searching for her next topic, but it would consistently return to her familiar rhythm as if nothing had slowed her down at all. With consistency, Glaser’s unique interpretations and everyday observations commanded the audience’s full allegiance throughout the show.
What was exciting was Glaser’s refreshingly unique stage presence. Her persona of “innocent, classy liberal arts graduate” made all the raunchy things she was saying that much funnier.
Her style jumped from story to story, intermingled with her characteristic one-liner quips that transcended the knee-slapper:
“I’ve been single forever—I was born that way,” she joked.
But following her show, she opened up about her time at MTV and how she moved on from there.
“[Working at MTV was] a lot of work,” she said. “It was so fun because I was working with my friends and we were having a great time [….However,] it was more important for MTV for us to look pretty and perfect than for us to be funny […,] It wasn’t my sense of humour, like I had to censor myself a lot, so I felt a little stifled in that sense.”
Stifled? Stifled no more. There was not a trace of that in her performance on stage, nothing “holding her back” from telling you, the audience, every thought that runs through her mind—such as how her Match.com profile read “I support puppy mills” because men don’t pay much attention to women’s online descriptions anyways.
Glaser’s show kept striking on-beat. She punched unique style and taste into every bit of raunch that few other comics get away with.
Most of us cannot see the world in the same way as her, which is why fans go see her show. She’s funny, and charming enough to get away with it all.
“Is it possible for me to fairly review the Outkast reunion?”
This thought had been lingering in the back of my mind ever since I knew that I’d be covering the first night of Osheaga, when the famed, deeply strange Atlanta hip-hop duo would be bringing their 40-stop reunion tour to Montreal. Could I fairly assess the experience of seeing a group whose work I had spent countless hours of my teenage years listening to and obsessing over? Would I be able to judge, with any sort of accuracy, the quality of the musical performance in this show which once seemed, if not impossible, at least highly improbable?
The answer—which I knew the minute the duo, comprised of André3000 and Big Boi, walked on stage and the opening synthesizer sounds of “B.O.B.” came through the massive main-stage speakers—was a resounding “no”. I wouldn’t be able to separate what was happening onstage from my prior relationship with this much beloved tag-team of southern hip-hop weirdos; so, I’ll do my best to convey what the experience was like for me.
To start, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the festival setting was wrong for the event. This is hardly a problem limited to Osheaga, since all of the tour stops—outside of a few dates in their hometown of Atlanta at the end of September—are at festivals. For a few reasons, settings like these simply can’t do justice to a show like this one.
First, and possibly foremost, the perennial auditory problems that plague outdoor performances were present in full force throughout the set. The hook on “The Way You Move” fails to grab you with its maximum potential when you can’t distinguish the funky guitar bends that introduce it from the thundering bass or the dull roar of crowd disinterest. The live band was a nice touch, and the horns in particular added an extra dose of grittiness to boisterous songs like “Ghettomusick”, but their contribution was often difficult to discern. The nuances present throughout the work of a group as detail-obsessed as Outkast can’t be conveyed when they’re being blasted through speakers loud enough to be deafening even to those nowhere near them.
Another frustrating issue was much of the audience’s failure to appreciate the moment. About a quarter of the way through the hour and a half long set, the girl standing next to me turned to me and said, “They need to play ‘Shake it like a Polaroid picture!’” Though I didn’t conduct extensive research among the audience, my sense throughout the set was that this was the typical level of familiarity with Outkast’s work. Everyone seemed happy enough to be there, but nothing—even pop culture icons such as “Ms. Jackson”—garnered the level of enthusiasm that you’d expect at these live performances.
Before I sink too deeply into the throes of curmudgeonliness, I want to be clear—this is fine. There’s nothing wrong with a bunch of people getting together to drink, dance, and have a good time, all to the tune of a smattering of artists representing a wide spectrum of the current pop music landscape. Yet I can’t help but feel that Outkast deserves more than this. I’m glad that they’ll be greeted by a crowd solely composed of their faithful when they finally play in Atlanta, but their body of work is impressive enough that they merit that sort of adoring fandom wherever they go. Their music warrants people shouting out all of the words to “Player’s Ball”, not a collective “Aque-meh-ni.”
But still. There’s no way to express the magic of seeing tens of thousands of people obey as Andréinstructed them to “throw your hands in the air” during the “ATLiens” hook. Even if all of these people were equally happy to do whatever Skrillex had told them to do, it was hard not to crack a smile while watching them play along with Outkast’s shtick. If there’s a scenario where dancing to a tune as irresistibly groovy as “Rosa Parks” with a huge crowd isn’t fun, I don’t want to imagine it. Moments like these are why I knew, from the moment the Outkast reunion was announced, that I wouldn’t dare miss it, even if it couldn’t possibly live up to my hopes.
Was it a great performance? Probably not. But it didn’t need to be. Sure, there was undoubtedly more that could have been gleaned from the reunion of one of the most important hip-hop groups of all time. Still, seeing André3000 and Big Boi play a set filled with the tunes that gave them their reputation in front of a crowd that felt as big as “The Whole World” was more than enough to ensure that the show would end feeling like it had been something special, and it’s hard to argue with that.
Following a five-year hiatus, British electronic artist Elly Jackson—better known under her stage name La Roux—returns to the music scene with her second album, Trouble in Paradise. Focusing on the struggles Jackson dealt with during her time out of the spotlight, the album offers an interestingly upbeat and mature take on the ‘downside of fame’ theme, resulting in a more personal and intimate experience than her previous album.
Gone are the synthesizers and electronics, which are replaced with heavy bass, airy vocals, and chewy choruses. Trouble in Paradise is possibly the most ‘80s-sounding 21st century record made in recent memory.
Beginning with the immediately arresting, tap-your-foot lead single “Uptight Downtown”, Jackson displays her frustration with modern society, asking “how do all these people have so much to prove?” over a steady, Duran-Duran-esque guitar riff. “Kiss And Not Tell” flirts with a cheeky ‘night on the town,’ while “Cruel Sexuality” sees an introverted Jackson battling her own sexuality and the issues that arise from its uncertainty. The Hawaiian-esque “Tropical Chancer” takes the listener immediately to some sort of paradise, while standout track “Sexotheque” discusses both sides of an unequal relationship—a woman wanting to settle down whilst the man “wants to go where the red lights shine so bright”, delivered over one of the catchiest melodies released this year.
However, even at only nine songs long, Trouble in Paradise does tend to drag in some places. “Paradise Is You” crawls for a long five minutes, while album-closer “The Feeling” is an underwhelming and slightly bland conclusion to an otherwise upbeat and polished pop album. Jackson’s clever and simple lyrics work in her favour, but with beats this airy, the weighty lyricism is at risk of getting lost in West coast guitar riffs and steel drums.
Nonetheless, Trouble in Paradise is a joy to listen to, offering plenty of hooks, interesting musical arrangements, and well-executed ‘80s-style production. The only downside is its length, which—after a five-year hiatus—doesn’t quite offer enough to satisfy. The result is akin to having your unfinished ice cream scoop accidentally fall from its cone on a hot day—delicious until an untimely and somewhat disappointing end.
Early on in Guardians of the Galaxy, the latest Marvel Comics film, we hear the Blue Swede cover of “Hooked on a Feeling.” While it’s not necessarily a reference to Quentin Tarantino’s classic debut of Reservoir Dogs,which featured the tune, it’s certainly a strong possibility, given the age of Guardians director and co-writer James Gunn—he was 22 when Tarantino’s film came out. It feels even more likely given Gunn’s script—a collaboration with Nicole Perlman—which has the vibrant irreverence of Tarantino’s best work and makes Guardians a highly enjoyable movie-going experience.
The song is cleverly integrated as a plot device, as are the the other ’70s hits that are scattered throughout the film’s soundtrack. Peter Quill (Chris Pratt) carries around a mixtape of these tunes everywhere he goes, because they remind him of his mother (Laura Haddock), who died of cancer when he was a young child. Shortly after her death, a band of smugglers known as the Ravagers abduct Quill, and they raise him to be a fellow bandit.
Flash forward to the future, and Quill has possession of a powerful orb—much to the displeasure of Ronan (Lee Pace), an intergalactic villain who seeks galactic domination. He’s willing to do whatever it takes to get his hands on the orb, though he decides to start by sending the green-tinted trained assassin Gamora (Zoë Saldana).
Gamora’s subsequent journey sets off an encounter between her and Quill, which leads to them meeting a spunky anthropomorphic raccoon named Rocket (Bradley Cooper), the tree-like humanoid Groot (Vin Diesel), and a blue warrior named Drax (Dave Bautista). The group of strange bedfellows band together when they find themselves together in prison on the bad side of their fellow inmates. They set off around space in the hopes of selling the orb, which they believe to be valuable.
This might all seem like standard issue sci-fi, and frankly, it is. But what makes Gunn’s film stand out is its sense of humour and spirit of fun, which have been all too rare in Hollywood blockbusters since Christopher Nolan’s Batman trilogy. Dark and gritty has become the default tone for popular action movies, and it’s a credit to Gunn and Perlman that they avoid the trappings that have led would-be works of pulpy fun to become sluggishly mired in self-importance.
Quite a bit of the humour comes from the zippy one-liners littered throughout the film by Rocket and Quill. Gunn and Perlman also take the jokes one step further by cleverly parodying the seriousness of contemporary comic book movies through Drax. He’s a dense, humourless individual whois fixated on getting revenge against Ronan, and he fails to understand Rocket and Quill’s quips. Like Nolan’s films—and far too many others—he can’t take a joke. The light touch makes the two hour running time zip by, and whenever things threaten to get dark, there’s always a witty joke waiting to lighten the mood.
Equally important are the likable actors who help bring the script to life. Chris Pratt (who, between this and The Lego Movie, is quickly rising among Hollywood’s most appealing male schlubs) brings out Quill’s nice-guy appeal without denying his immaturity. You can’t help but root for him, even as you wish he’d grow up. Cooper plays his bad-boy shtick even more convincingly than he did in The Hangover movies, which is pretty remarkable considering that he does it here as the voice of a bipedal raccoon.
Still, it’s Gunn’s job at the helm that holds everything together, and he’s delivered one of the wittiest, funniest, and flat-out most entertaining comic book movies in ages. One can only hope that the studios will take note, and bring the tone of the average blockbuster to be more like Guardians and less like the moody films which make it feel like such a breath of fresh air. As one such movie asks, “Why so serious?”
The opening credit sequence of Richard Linklater’s latest film, Boyhood, is shot from the perspective of the main character Mason Jr. (Ellar Coltrane, 6 years old at the time) as he looks up into a blue sky. It’s a moment of calm before the stormier events and emotions that lie ahead in Linklater’s outstanding exploration of one boy’s adolescent years in a trying family situation.
You may have read about Linklater’s innovative filmmaking technique by now. He shot the movie over twelve years, taking a few weeks out of every year to film the story of Mason Jr., his sister Samantha (Lorelei Linklater), and their divorced parents, Olivia and Mason Sr. (Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke). As the film’s nearly three hour running time flies by, we see all four of them learn, grow, and fall in and out of love.
Linklater cleverly demarcates time using pop culture icons. A read-aloud of The Sorcerer’s Stone turns into a midnight release of The Half-Blood Prince, a lingerie catalogue becomes internet porn, and initial criticism of the Iraq war changes into support for Obama. Through all of these shifts, the director’s commitment to showing us multiple perspectives stands out.
Take, for example, an early fight between the parents. After the father takes his children out for an afternoon of bowling and fun, he brings them back to their permanent home with their mother. The tension between the couple mounts until they realize that they have too many issues to resolve them with Samantha and Mason Jr. present. They head outside, thinking that they have achieved privacy, but the children sneak upstairs and watch through an open window. It’s not hard to imagine what they’re saying to each other, but we don’t know precisely, because we see the fight from a distance and from the perspective of the kids. We don’t know the details of what’s going on, but we know that Olivia and Mason Sr. are fighting.
Linklater gives us the opposite point of view later on in the film. After a stern warning from Mason Sr. about texting and driving, we see Mason Jr. behind the wheel of his pick-up truck with his girlfriend, Sheena (Zoe Graham), showing him a picture on her iPhone. He looks away from the road to stare at the screen, and the camera lingers on a zoomed in shot of the phone. At this point, we’re getting the perspective of the concerned parent, terrified at the possibilities of his child on the open road. Linklater is too subtle of a filmmaker to make anything result from the boy’s distraction, but we’re terrified, for a moment, at what it could lead to. Boyhood is a film about what it’s like to grow up, to be sure, but it’s just as much about the experience of watching someone you love grow up.
As strong as these perspective shifts are, Linklater overreaches towards the end of the movie when he brings back a minor character from earlier in the film. The character’s second chance encounter with Mason Jr. and his family feels contrived, and it doesn’t come across as particularly satisfying. Mostly, it seems like Linklater wants to impress us with the extent to which he’s developed his central conceit—not only did he hang on to the main actors for twelve years, but he didn’t forget about the cast members with less screen time, either.
Still, it’s a single false note in a film that’s loaded with moments that ring true. The small details like hairstyles and favourite books feel just as immaculately planned out as the broader character arcs. Linklater goes beyond the sheer impressiveness and novelty of his filmmaking technique to deliver a coming-of-age story that depicts the struggles and joys of growing up as much as it shows the experience of watching a loved one go through those tribulations. The length of his shoot is a feat in and of itself, but the film’s true achievement is its fully realized portrayal of twelve years in the life of an American family.
Jack Antonoff’s newest project as a solo artist—under the name Bleachers—is an all-too-real escape from the filtered buoyancy produced by his other band, Fun. The album, titled Strange Desire, is cinematic, lightly processed, and overrun with adolescent intimacy interposed with adult tragedy. Its lyrics are splayed out haphazardly, and they resonate with an overarching familiarity similar to that of reading a teenager’s diary. They are real, and the guitar riffs and hazy beats that accompany them, for the most part, mix seamlessly to form a disjointed but exultant sound.
Strange Desire is strong right out of the gate. Opening track “Wild Heart” has an ‘80s vibe echoing through each piano chord, and the controlled explosion into the chorus is an excellent precursor to the album’s build into its strongest track, pre-released “I Wanna Get Better”. By utilizing sharp pop-centric beats and poignant phrases delivered straight from the shrink’s couch, “I Wanna Get Better” deftly summarizes the attitude expressed through the remainder of the tracks: we are growing, we are hurting, we are loving, and we are always trying to get better.
In comparison, some of the remaining songs fall flat. “Wild Heart Reprise” featuring Yoko Ono is uncomfortable and over-processed, while “Take Me Away” seems like a poor last-ditch attempt to appeal to the club scene. Despite these drawbacks, the album can still hold its own as an eclectic off-beat sound full of adult angst and teenage heart. It is undeniably strange, intimately desirable, and definitely worth a listen.
A lot has changed for outspoken British pop star Lily Allen since the release of her second album five years ago, having since gained international success and initiated various controversies. While her initial style was known for being simple and relatable, she approaches her newest release, Sheezus, from a slightly different angle, one that takes her music in a new direction and has left me feeling disappointed after the long wait.
As opposed to the ska and alternative sound of her previous records, Allen has gone for a more electronic, ‘contemporary’ sound with Sheezus; however, its attempt at ascribing to current trends misses the mark. The titular song is a clear example of how overproduction can result in a cheap, auto-tuned, electronic mess.
There are a few standouts amid the letdowns: “Air Balloon” is a sublimely happy, tap-your-feet-immediately type of song, “URL Badman” is an interesting and successful exploration in dubstep, and “Close Your Eyes” drips with sonic seduction. What makes these songs impressive is their ability to deal with the everyday in a way that relates to everybody—but this shtick doesn’t work as favourably for the remainder of the album. Lily Allen isn’t a small-time girl anymore; she’s an international superstar—and she knows it—so writing about the music industry and various issues she has with stardom whilst pretending to not be affiliated with it simply doesn’t work. She’s writing about the music industry from inside the music industry, while somehow pretending to be detached and removed from it.
This album had a rocky beginning, both on and off the actual record, from Allen calling her own singles “pop rubbish” to claiming she only made the record to bring her closer to the end of the deal with her record company, then to lackluster live performances and unnecessary name-calling. The confusion behind the scenes have unfortunately filtered down and infiltrated the songs themselves, resulting in a confusing, muted, and bland album. I am all for Lily Allen’s outlandishness—it’s usually brilliant—but this album isn’t.