Amy & Lily: So Bad, So Good
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March 21, 2007

Amy & Lily: So Bad, So Good

AmyalehouseIt would take a brave man to date Brit brats Amy Winehouse and Lily Allen. But it would take an even braver man to dump either of them. These pop newcomers don’t wallow in heartbreak. Nope, do them wrong, and they’ll melodiously de-pants you, turning your anatomical shortcomings into killer hooks while the rest of us hit the dance floor.

Potty-mouthed, vindictive and tons of nasty fun, Winehouse and Allen are already stars in the U.K., as much for their late-night shenanigans and dating habits as their delicious new albums. It seems every other London tabloid leads with either “Amy Winehouse passed out at...” or “Lily Allen tried to karate-kick the paparazzi at...”

Lily_2But comparing these boozy birds to our own tabloid trainwrecks is a mistake. Lily and Amy are more akin to golden-age rockers, like Mick and Keith, hearty partiers who have the singing-songwriting chops to make their vices seem almost charming.

With a double-take voice that’s a little Billie Holiday, a little Ronnie Spector, Winehouse is a beehived, tattooed 23-year-old who loves ’60s girl groups, hip-hop beats and intoxicants, all of which she indulges in on sophomore disc Back to Black.

On her debut, Alright, Still..., the 21-year-old Allen is a smarty-pants rich kid with a thing for island riddims, boy-bashing lyrics and a “mockney” accent that gives edge to her tipsy Dusty Springfield impression.

Both budding stars get help from producer Mark Ronson, who displays a deft feel for throwback detail and ear-candy lushness. In fact, these albums sound so timeless, it’s easy to overlook the frisky lyrics. But soon enough, you’ll hear Winehouse trying to hide her “carpet burns,” or Allen’s riding her bike “cause the filth took away my license,” and you realize there’s something else going on here.

Winehouse’s first single, Rehab, is a soul-kissed marvel. Backed by ringing chimes and a chunky Motown groove, the woman the tabs call Wino (or Amy Alehouse) sings: “They tried to make me go to rehab, I said no, no, no.” In an age when everyone’s off getting clean, Winehouse thumbs her nose at taking the cure: “There’s nothing you can teach me, that I can’t learn from Mr. Hathaway,” a romantic reference to soul king Donny.

After that aggressive start, Winehouse, who wrote most of the album, slows things down, preferring to croon her malaise and mischief over a soft, cocktail party vibe. If you want to slow dance to it, great. If you want to smoke and drink and streak the neighborhood, that’ll work, too.

Whereas Winehouse’s sound originates from ’50s and ’60s R&B, Allen prefers Mod melodies with Latin rhythms and a splash of Mexicali horns. It’s the perfect framework for her, a modern girl with a hedonistic Swinging ’60s bent. First single Smile has an innocent reggae bounce and breezy la-la-la’s, but listen to the lyrics and the song turns comically sinister: “At first when I see you cry, yeah it makes me smile.”

Because of her puckish songwriting skills and good-time chronicles, Allen has a better shot at scoring hits with young audiences. At one point she even dedicates a fantastic Big Top vamp to her stoner brother Alfie. But for all the silliness, you can’t overlook her smarts. Everything’s Just Wonderful is a Burt Bacharach-meets-Herb Alpert frenzy, with sterile ba-ba-ba harmonies and spacey keyboard cool. Allen doesn’t want the hassle of being the voice of her generation, but she knows her lack of responsibility isn’t doing anyone any good: “We’re on all fours, crawling on our knees, someone help us please.”

It’s a startling moment of self-awareness — even if the next song is a below-the-belt ex-boyfriend slam called Not Big.

Comments

I agree with you, Sean, about Winehouse's vocal similarities to Holiday and Spector, but as pleasant it is to listen to her, her newfangled, high-gloss version doesn't leave me with a lasting impression -- kinda like a Crate and Barrel knockoff of antique furniture.

I haven't heard enough of Winehouse's stuff to have an opinion but I'm fast becoming a Lily Allen fan. I think her songs are witty and tuneful, both things which are often in short supply in current music.

Loved the article. I like these ladies so much more than what America has to offer. Maybe that's why they remind me of my favorite, Chrissie Hynde. She had to travel overseas to get a real band going.
Good writing and good reading.

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Sean Daly is the pop music critic for the St. Petersburg Times. His CD collection -- from Journey to Dylan, Prince to U2, Public Enemy to Stan Getz -- is much bigger and better than yours.

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