Though August is just a fading memory now (more déjà vu?) and I am preparing myself for a long hibernation until the next festival season, my memories are still as fresh as if it happened two months ago. Ah, the sunshine, the overpriced food and beer, the girls dressed in those summer frocks, floppy hats and oversized belts that flattered their stomachs and emphasised their breasts… and Kate Nash. Like Arcade Fire, ubiquitous this year, though perhaps not so much showered with praise and respect than disdain (my next door neighbour at Leeds was unamused to the point of suggesting capital punishment for the wench) and accusations of Lily cloning. I will concede the point that she is like Lily in that she comes from London, but then so does Alan Sugar, and no-one compares her to him. Ridiculous. No, this Kate Nash has come as a surprise to me. Against my better prejudgement… I like her stuff.
Right, first off, if your looking for musical complexity and virtuoso composition, go elsewhere – Battles this ain’t; hell, it makes Belinda Carlisle look mathy. Though she has been dubbed by some bloody stupid journalist as ‘the queen of chavtronica,’ samples and electronics are pretty sparse. More prevalent is the abrupt, petulant nursery piano that goes beyond simple – ‘Merry Happy’ has a piano line that could be played by someone who finds ‘Chopsticks’ a challenge (ie. me) – but is infantilely cheerful and catchy. Admittedly, the first track, ‘Play,’ does have a fair whack of instruments bunged at it, but in the way that a toddler uses expensive electronic toys to hammer shape blocks into banana mush. She messes around with blues and big beat, even strays into early electronica, but her closest musical comparison is… Victoria Wood. Hold that thought.
Still holding it? Good. I’ve asked you to do that, because something interesting happens when you listen to the lyrics. I know, crazy idea. And listen to the delivery while you’re at it; I think everyone has heard ‘Foundations’ more than enough times by now, but on the radio it is denuded of its key features: her extended pronunciations of ‘bitch’ and ‘shit.’ Let us return to the lyrics though. She cracks them out at a fair witty pace and, for the most part, captures the essence of calling a spade a spade. She talks about dickheads, shit songs and expressions of love that are only half got by the expressee (‘Birds’ is hilarious: firstly for comparing beautiful girls to birds that shit on you and secondly for the girl’s reaction to this observations; “wot?”). That’s not all though. She goes off on flights of surreal fancy: ‘Skeleton Song’ is a love/hate song with her own skeleton; ‘Mariella’ is about a goth who sticks her lips together. Funny stuff really. But the humour really takes shape with her Ani Di Franco, trip over the words ideas, stuff the metre, Matt Skinner eat your heart out delivery that matches the matter. ‘Foundations’ is edgy, ‘Mariella’ is dreamy, ‘Dickhead’ is worn. The core is that the delivery is conversational rather than purely musical, with all it’s associate stumblings and stresses that aren’t immediately obvious. “Thanks, I like you too” she says, with a hint of a question in ‘Birds.’ “ Cool,” he responds. Fairly genuine commercial pop.
So here I am, confessing my admiration of Kate Nash. She does relationships proper. The only danger I perceive is that she’s going to get stuck on this subject – look at Alanis – and never write anything decent again; ‘Nicest Thing’ hints at this ominously. But if you finish an album with a hook so catchy that it should be banned under the Geneva convention, your eye’s are set optimistically on higher things, I hope. And I get to say “I’m looking forward to hearing what Katie did next.”
I am such a hack.
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