For the past couple of years, music’s new class of female singer-songwriters has appeared more desperate for attention than ever, probably because Perez Hilton appearances constitute half of their careers, the way music videos did for Madonna and Cyndi Lauper in the ’80s.
When pop stardom is a night out on the town, every girl needs something to do for attention. If Amy Winehouse’s plan is to get completely hammered, and Katy Perry’s is to make out with her BFF and make her boyfriend jealous, Lily Allen’s best bet is to rely on a snarky attitude and insult everyone in the room until she’s noticed. This type of attitude that made her debut “Alright, Still” a critical and commercial success in 2006 was funny at first, but it quickly became obnoxious. Fortunately, “It’s Not Me, It’s You” is a testament to Allen’s willingness to grow up, though its title suggests she hasn’t completely matured just yet.
Most of the album recounts the men that have done Allen wrong in the past, and more importantly, how she’s forgiven them. Singing “since you’ve gone, I’ve lost a chip on my shoulder; since you’ve gone, I feel like I’ve gotten older,” she settles with an ex-boyfriend on “I Could Say.” Even more disarming is “He Wasn’t There,” a reconciliation with her negligent father that has the singer admitting, “I didn’t care about the lies. … He was my hero in disguise.”
Allen’s more vulnerable moments humanize sardonic songs like “Not Fair,” a slam against a seemingly perfect boyfriend who continues to fail her in the sack. As the singer complains, “When we go up to bed, you’re just not good, it’s such a shame,” she starts to realize that her attempt to ridicule the disappointing lover has actually made her feel sorry for the guy. Now that’s what I call growing up.
Unfortunately, her newfound maturity comes coupled with a need to tackle issues bigger than herself. Allen aims to critique society’s obsession with prescription drugs (“Everyone’s At It”), obsession with spending (“The Fear”), and obsession with God in “Him,” in which the singer half-heartedly contemplates, “come election time I wonder who he’d vote for.” There’s even a last-minute attempt at a George Bush kiss-off in “F*** You,” but in the wake of an Obama presidency, Bush-bashing isn’t very cutting edge. “No one wants your opinion,” she sings in “F*** You.” “Likewise,” is what anyone with half the wit of Bush would reply.
Any lyrical missteps redeem themselves with the music’s overall sound that is less pseudo-ska and more electro-pop than her debut. It makes the political rants bearable and the sincere moments shine. “Chinese” is an endearing synth ballad about a long-distance boyfriend, “Back to the Start” is an honest attempt to make amends with a friend she’s taken for granted. The chorus quickly stutters through the words, “Believe me when I say that I cannot apologize enough, when all you ever wanted from me was a token of my love.” Apparently apologies are difficult for Allen, but she insists, “This is not just a song, I intend to put these words into action.” I’ll believe her for now.
Allen may have caught everyone’s attention by calling girls names and uttering lines like, “Oh my gosh you must be joking me, if you think that you’ll be poking me” on her debut, but now that she’s dropped most of her attitude, she’s a girl I’d likely pay attention to at a party. Sure, we can be friends, but if you continue to insist that it’s me and not you, I’d still rather hang with Amy Winehouse.
E-mail Wolf at awolf@media.ucla.edu.