All second albums are difficult, but some more than others. Following the multi-platinum success of La Roux’s self-titled, Grammy-garnering debut, Elly Jackson has a lot to prove on the aptly-titled Trouble In Paradise. The sophomore album from the English synthpop outfit arrives following a near five year recording hiatus, scant tours or live appearances, and – most significantly – the departure of her songwriting partner Ben Langmaid.
Although the androgynous 26-year-old vocalist has since found other collaborators (five of these nine tracks are co-writes), La Roux is now essentially a solo act. By all accounts, the split was highly acrimonious. Jackson recently told a New Zealand interviewer that she and Langmaid are no longer speaking: “We are not on good terms at all, in any way, shape or form.” For his part, Langmaid claimed that the primary reason he left was because of the involvement on Trouble in Paradise of the writer and engineer Ian Sherwin, tweeting, “The guy’s an idiot. He’s the reason I left.” Just in case anybody had missed the point, he further tweeted, “The dude’s a poacher. He couldn’t write a nursery rhyme.”
Sherwin is credited as writer on three tracks here: ‘Let Me Down Gently’, ‘Trouble in Paradise’ and poppy album opener ‘Uptight Downtown’. The latter features the inane lyric, “When did all these people/ Decide to change their shoes, shoes, shoes?” So Langmaid may have had a point – though the song will sound great on dance-floors, regardless. However, Jackson herself is responsible for the lamest couplet on the album. On ‘Paradise Is You’ she croons, “The palm trees make it feel like a paradise/ But without you here, there’s nothing nice.” Ouch!
There’s a sense that their parting of ways may have involved more than just musical differences. That’s speculation, of course, but quite a few of the broodier songs here are about break-ups. On the Depeche (circa 1985) Mode-influenced ‘Silent Partner’, she seems to be singing directly to her estranged former collaborator: “You’re not my partner/ No, you’re not a part of me/ I need silence.”
Musically it’s all very organic and electro-smooth, a lot less bleepy and sci-fi slick than the debut, though at least half the songs seem to rely on variants of the same four chords. It’s occasionally reminiscent of cheesy ‘80s synthpop, though some tracks sound boldly contemporary. First cut ‘Tropical Chancer’ is reggae tinted. The most inventive song, meanwhile, is the Bjork-ish ‘Cruel Sexuality’ (“I don’t even know myself/ because I’m becoming someone else”). Fortunately, Jackson’s vocals are so strong that her funky falsettos and catchy choruses more than compensate for any lack of underlying musical originality.
‘Kiss And Not Tell’ is infectiously fluffy nonsense, the kind of bubble-gum party pop that you just can’t get out of your head. It’s an unashamedly feelgood song: “You got the elegance, but it’s weighing you down/ And sometimes you just need a night on the town.” ‘Sexotheque’ is gloriously silly, like the work of the Scissor Sisters’ UK cousin. It all fades out quite wonderfully on ‘The Feeling’, with Jackson saving her most stunning vocal performance till last. Ultimately, Trouble In Paradise is a good comeback album, and a relatively breezy break-up one. Here’s hoping that La Roux’s next release will be a lot less troubled.
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