RIYL: Lily Allen, The Pigeon Detectives, Regina Spektor
It’s got to be annoying to win a Brit Award for your debut album, only to draw a hundred unfavorable comparisons to Lily Allen in the process. Of course, among the current batch of pop chanteuses, Allen’s no slouch, but just because Kate Nash is young and boasts an adorable British accent, that doesn’t mean she deserves to be lumped in with her – or anyone else.
Now three years removed from her debut – and the ripe old age of 22 – Nash has re-emerged with My Best Friend Is You, which bends over backwards, and every other which way, to build a case for Nash as a sharply eclectic songwriter who’s equally at home channeling the Shirelles and Rosie Thomas. In other words, the album is a mess, and although it seems safe to assume Nash planned it that way, that doesn’t make Best Friend any more of an engaging listen.
It’s got its moments, to be sure – the album kicks off with the sparkling one-two punch of “Paris” and “Kiss That Grrrl,” both of which emphasize Nash’s way with jaunty pop hooks and sunny melodies; the latter, in fact, is one of the best things she’s done, thanks in part to Bernard Butler’s Phil Spector production. “Don’t You Want to Share the Guilt?” unspools a breezy blend of chimes, acoustic guitars, and a plaintive electric lead, framing a portrait of a relationship in decline with Nash’s trademark bittersweet lyrics.
Toward the end of “Guilt,” though, Nash launches into a babbling stream of spoken-word nonsense, and you can sense the screws coming loose at the joints, and things fall apart completely with “I Just Love You More,” which sounds like the Breeders getting high with the Cure and forgetting to turn off the recorder. Blink and the album does a sharp U-turn back into catchy pop territory for the first single, “Do-Wah-Doo,” and then there’s “Take Me to a Higher Place,” which kicks off with a Dexys flourish, and then…well, you get the idea. Nash is as brave and restless as any young artist, bristling with ideas and eager to share them all. Her willingness to go out on a cracked limb with her sophomore release is commendable, but listening to stuff like the borderline atonal “I’ve Got a Secret,” or the inane “I Hate Seagulls,” it’s hard not to wish Nash’s label still had a strong A&R person or two – someone who could have kept Best Friend‘s weaker bits in the vaults, where they belong. During “Mansion Song,” Nash spits out, “I want to be fucked and then rolled over.” Once Best Friend meets its fate in the marketplace, she might get her wish in more ways than she intended. (Geffen 2010)
