Kate Nash - Girl Talk

The polarising career of Kate Nash is rather testament to her individuality. In 2007, atop the crest of the whole Myspace-indie pop thing going on in the UK (that ignited such predictably shortlived bandwagons as Klaxons, the Pigeon Detectives and Jamie T), Nash's debut Made of Bricks smashed its way into #1 on our album charts and made us all forget about her counterpart Lily Allen. Similar to Allen was that backlash - but rather than a purist whinging over her celebrity parents' riches, a lot of Nash's hate was directed purely at the musical output: her colloquial vocal delivery, her dear-diary confessional and crude lyrics, and her overtly simple production values. It certainly made her stand out, but sadly pissing people off is part and parcel of making it in music today, and a lot of extremely good songs - Pumpkin Soup, Mouthwash, Merry Happy - were overlooked because of that "fitter/bitter" line in Foundations.

But the release of 2010's My Best Friend is You was greeted a little more warmly. I, for the life of me, cannot understand that. It was a pretty shit album, right? With the exception of lead single Do-Wah-Doo, which I quite rightly tipped as one of the best three singles of the year, it was just an untidy handbag of nonsense. And then there was last year's just... weird rock EP. Is there anything left in Kate Nash to find exciting? Or maybe I'm just a faghag for pop music. A frightening premise.

Immediately the influences of the likes of Courtney Love, Juliette Lewis and other such bad-asses are made clear: 'Part Heart' is a moody, building chunk of resentment, each sentence beginning "and it doesn't matter...", and complete with feedback closure. But then she unleashes some almighty Romantics tribute-work on 'Fri-end?', and given its straightforward tempo and chords it's little more than a nice pastiche. She still carries off the occasional hit: 'Death Proof' is suitably Tarantinoesque with its blues licks and jumpy rhythm, whilst she plays the romantically vague damsel on 'Are You There, Sweetheart?' observing "You're always watching my neck from the back of the room/ But you never even care". It's repetitive, but the tune is fine and enjoyable. But she really lets go and evolves on 'Sister', where notes are intentionally out of key and a frenetic punk attitude and song structure take centre stage. Lyrically she flips between unintentional raucousness ("Being ripped away from you, is like being ripped out of a womb/
I'm sorry, is that too dramatic? I should just be far more placid") and slightly cringey resentment ("Oh my god, my my sister/ You were just like a blister"), but ultimately it's the album's focal point in her musical development.

Sadly, some of the more annoying habits of her earlier work resurface: the wacky titularisation of 'OMYGOD!' is unnecessary and cheapening, even if it's assigned to a slow rock & roll foot-tapper. The distortion, though well used at times, is often used - as on 'Oh' - as the easy substitute for tension and atmosphere, whilst the rest of the track is kind-of alienating bitter teenageisms ("Image freak/ The mirror lies to you and me/ You are alone on this one"). The anger resurfaces on 'All Talk', a thrashed-out collection of Tumblr kiss-offs and social networking "about me" sections ("And when you're close to my heart - it's undyingly yours/ But best not to forget - it's undeniably mine"), before she rejoices and screeches "It's funny how I got your attention" over the crescendo. It's an uncomfortable declaration, if only because she opens the next song ('Conventional Girl') with "I'm sick of being the bitch you think I am". It's a difficulty to balance the chip on her shoulder with her desire to be taken seriously and to be liked (romantically or otherwise).

There then comes 'Rap' - ! - 'for Rejection', where she, indeed whilst rapping, complains that she's "a stupid whore and a frigid bitch" and touches upon the innate misogyny in society (with a typically small but valid example of music magazines being associated with the men's sections in newsagents, whilst girls are left to critique each others' appearances and diets). It's a smart piece of satire. She kinda spoils it with the bratty shouting of 'Cherry Pickin'', a 4-chord punk ditty with a purely annoying vocal grate. Towards the end of the album the sounds vary up and it's jarring - 'Labyrinth' is a twee, hushed bit of shoegazing with layered vocals and overall niceness, whereas 'You're So Cool, I'm So Freaky' busts out the acoustic guitar. A crowd joins in with her statements of "I don't know how I feel/ Want to feel something real", giving a new sense of Belle & Sebastian-like folkpop to the record. Again, it's quite lovely, but not setting the world alight. She closes with the a capella 'Lullaby for an Insomniac', a sweet vocal performance effectively summarising her target audience: "Another day goes by and I don't wash my hair/ Another night is spent wishing you were here".

Ultimately, Nash still retains some of the petulance and naivete that made her previous incarnations as the cutesy pop-musician all the more endearing: here, she's just the awkward adolescent cutting out magazines and sticking them up on her wall, painting her nails black and reading blogs. Valid points are made, and promising moments are heard, but with minimal intrigue.

I blame Ryan Jarman.

Rating: 5.5/10
Highlights: Sister; Death Proof; Rap for Rejection; Part Heart; You're so Cool, I'm so Freaky
Avoid: Fri-end?; Oh; Cherry Pickin'; All Talk

Artwork Watch: there are hearts and that is a girly thing to talk about isn't it
Up next: The Strokes