Shoot From The Hip

Post-Beyoncé, the world has been emphatically reminded of the transformative power of the perfect pop song; and post-Justin, ditto the idea that innovative production, plus a compelling, if non-writing, personality out front, can make for some of the world’s finest music. So it is in this context that, amusingly, we find ourselves wishing Sophie Ellis-Bextor’s second album were a little more manufactured than it is. Ellis-Bextor’s refreshing lack of pretence and charmingly bored, clipped riding-crop of a voice suggested she could be a wholly convincing disco-pop frontwoman, a kind of high-street Roisin Murphy – viz the utterly perfect pop of Spiller’s ‘If This Ain’t Love’, her breakthrough hit as a vocalist – but on this evidence, and on the evidence of her career to date (characterised by lesser, lightweight singles like ‘Murder On The Dancefloor’), she’s not remotely visionary enough to ‘manufacture’ herself.
The album’s quite brilliant early-‘80s production sheen – all fizzing, squelching programming and thrilling electro-disco flourishes last heard in back in the day – is sonically too watered down to fully convince, and is further marred by lyrics that are clearly heartfelt, but which have the feel of thinky teenage notebook scribblings. Hence, the sonically dead-sexy ‘Another Day’ – all stiletto-sharp string breaks and slinky downtempo grooves – could have been a disco-pop monster but is instead a slightly gauche Friends-Forever simper; and what could have been a caustic booty-shaking electro-rock monster (‘You Get Yours’) is emasculated by too-quiet drums and bass (can’t risk alienating those crucial under-12s). Similarly, a cover of Olivia Newton-John’s ‘Let’s Get Physical’ is a bit bloodless; and even the stellar electro-disco-funk of standout track ‘Making Music’ somehow lacks the taut aerodynamicism of truly great pop songs. Then there’s the joke-song irritation of list song ‘I Won’t Change You’ and the cardigan-wearing airheadedness of ‘Party In My Head’, co-written with (surprise!) Gregg Alexander.
Mind you, the dreamily orchestral Bernard Butler collaboration ‘I Am Not Good At Not Getting What I Want’ – a kissing cousin of Blur’s punch-drunk lovesong ‘To The End’, and a total non-sequitur on this album – suggests Sophie’s not good at deciding what she wants to be, either. Maybe next time.