Carly Sings is the buzz of the town at the moment and rather than playing the usual cat and mouse game with record companies she has forged ahead by releasing her debut album on her own label. Commendable stuff and top marks too for a presentation that encapsulates the chanteuse’s effortless style that oozes Gallic class. Her voice is a formidable instrument: sultry yet detached, fiery with a hint of glacé, combining at once the passion of a relationship with the hurt of a breakup. This double edge to her art also mirrors my feelings towards the album. While I’m typing the review I’m falling in and out of love with it, wincing at its obvious flaws yet loving its high points. Overall though it falters on the grounds of lack of memorable hooks. It starts brilliantly with God And The Girl, a superb blast of retro pop a la Divine Comedy that showcases all that’s wonderful about this artist. After that Carly takes her foot off the pedal, as if her charming delivery is enough to see us through the rest of the record. Snippets of melody pop up here and there but the production needs to be more complex to sustain such a threadbare melodic structure. It all sounds great: dulcet strings, heartwarming organs, fat double bass lines and crystalline guitars all beautifully mixed behind Carly’s stunning voice but there’s something missing – a chorus. The songs tend to start and finish in the same gear and while the view is lovely the journey gets tedious over repeat listens. Carly Sings definitely has the talent to produce a truly memorable record once she realises that a quirky, twee delivery is never a substitute for a good old fashioned chorus.
