When Florence And The Machine released Lungs in 2009, the trusty Ms. Welch tapped into a musical niche most of us didn’t know existed in the 21st century. Colossal diva pop had floundered in the robotic noughties, but suddenly it was all so clear – festival-goers still needed Chaka-style anthems, automobile commercials still needed anthemic soundtracks and forlorn teens still needed power ballads to honk out as they bayed at the moon.
Hoping to muscle in on this same territory is 23-year-old throwbacker Clare Maguire, a young lady with an astonishing voice that, like Flo’s, couldn’t possibly be manufactured – not with all the AutoTune software in T-Pain’s basement. Maguire has a voice like thunder – staunch, boisterous and not at all pretty.
In fact, within ten seconds of hearing her glorious retro boom, you’ll probably find yourself trying to recall if Annie Lennox or Siouxsie Sioux might have a daughter about her age. Unless you’re 17 and those names mean nothing to you. In that case, worry not, as Light After Dark seems to have been made with you in mind.
The moody 57-second opener ‘Are You Ready?’ kicks things off with a grandiose swirl, and the stormy soft rock doesn’t let up for 45 minutes. ‘The Shield And The Sword’ is as good as any pop ballad that came out of the 1980s, while the beginning of ‘The Last Dance’ could be an alternate intro to ‘Walking On Broken Glass’.
Haunting strings on ‘Bullet’ bump it up to a Herculean size, while the children’s choir on ‘The Happiest Pretenders’ provides a much-needed respite from the drama of Maguire’s voice (ditto the chanting on ‘Break These Chains’).
Are there enough chart-smashing hits here to fill a phone company’s advertising schedule for the next 12 months? Not exactly. A handful of these tracks have the potential to be this year’s ‘Cosmic Love’, but theatrical arrangements don’t always do the trick – simpler tunes like ‘Sweet Lie’ and the titular ‘Light After Dark’ are instantly forgettable.
We’ve bought what Clare Maguire’s selling before – a sound typified by monstrous percussion, unfussy songwriting and the creative manipulation of one hell of a voice. Light After Dark won’t leave the lasting impression that Lungs did, but that’s not to say it doesn’t serve its purpose. That is, bringing life-affirming power-pop to those who missed the ‘80s the first time around.