FinishMySong Blog

I've been listening a lot to Lily Allen recently. The reggae / dance groove that goes on throughout her debut album, Alright, Still, seems to chill me out when I'm driving to various appointments to teach piano or give singing classes to groups of teenagers who sometimes give me the impression that they'd really rather be somewhere else! Maybe it's just the jumpy-type beat that does it or perhaps it's the openness of the lyrics, but something about this music draws my focus away from the hordes of people in their little cars all around me who don't seem to want to get to where they're going, or else are determined to take a few lives on their way there.

But, then when the internal lens sharpens the image on this Lily Allen stuff it gets me wondering why on earth I'd want to listen to it. Some of the lyric content is nothing short of vulgar and the whole album screams out to me that the writer of this stuff has one serious chip on her shoulder. But, for some inexplicable reason, I like it. Let me give you a few example of what I mean... here are some select extracts from various songs off this album:




Just a little taster there, for you. For what it's worth, this is what Amazon say about the album:

Being, as she is, the daughter of prominent British actor Keith Allen, the cynics could easily dismiss the rise of Lily Allen as an act of backroom nepotism, talent-free starlet helped to the stage by the right connections. One listen to her debut album Alright, Still, dispels any doubts about young Ms Allen’s star quality. Possessed of a feisty wit and taste for urban storytelling that should see her compared to Mike "The Streets" Skinner, these eleven tracks of sunshine-friendly reggae pop cover topics including frustrating potential closing-time suitors ("Knock ‘Em Out"), being happy when your ex is having a bad time ("Smile"), and having a little brother who likes a bit of a smoke--and not just of the tobacco variety ("Alfie"). Wisely, however, Allen doesn’t let the grittiness of the subject matter tarnish the golden pop suss of the songs, a suite of gleaming productions by names including Mark Ronson and Gwen Stefani collaborator Greg Kurstin that take inspiration from at the lighter end of reggae and vintage rocksteady. Doubtless some corners of the press will pillory her as a poor role model, but there’s an engaging honesty to the likes of "LDN" - a love song to a city filled with teenage muggers, pimps and crackwhores, narrated by someone who’s cycling because "the filth took away my license". Like father, like daughter.

So, maybe I'm not altogether mad for liking this record, even if I do find some of the lyrics difficult to stomach. Having said that, Amazon are trying to pedal copies of it, aren't they?!