With Mike Skinner’s latest record being about as enjoyable as a bum-glassing, it’s nice to know there’s a whole new generation of artists coming through that he’s directly (or indirectly) inspired. Arctic Monkeys, Plan B, and Jamie T all owe the shit-suited Brummie a sizeable debt of gratitude (or at least a currant-bun), for starters. Lily Allen’s debut record too drips with Skinnerisms, hence the lazy press bullshit that’s she’s merely "Skinner with tits". She’s not. She’s much better than that.

Like the early works of Skinner though, there‘s summat great happening here. Quite simply, this album is a fucking hoot, written by an instantly likeable geezer-bird who seemingly lives purely to have a laugh, and it’s destined to soundtrack this summer with Bacardi Breezer-breath'ed, lip-glossed ease. Its certainly taken over mine. According to my LastFM profile, I’ve played tunes by Ms Allen seventy times since I “acquired” this record a month ago. I’ve also been hunting out her demo tapes and own-created mixtapes. Its pretty safe to say I’m a touch obsessed. And who was the last artist I found myself spinning so often, I don‘t hear you cry? Why, young Senor Skinner. Ahem.

Though don’t get me wrong, she’s no copyist. In fact, her sound is pretty much unlike anyone or anything out there right now. It’s like ska mixed with good-time pop, sprinkled with reggae, with Lady Sovereign’s more commercial elements lobbed in last for good measure. It’s a revelation, quite frankly. The best fun I’ve had listening to a new record in years. It’s pop-music with summat to say and a pair of nuts. And when you read the latest charts week-in week-out and see the dry-faced likes of fucking Keane, James Blunt, KT Tunstall, and that bint what sings about hippies in her hair, dominating the top ten, the likes of Lily Allen are the ones we should be clinging to with every fibre of our being. Lets hope she inspires just as many young people as The Streets, cos we fucking need her to, quite frankly.

The whole of this debut offering brims with energy, impresses with witty, gritty/“real” lyrics, and most importantly, has not one weak moment. Every single track is bang-on, and the whole record is supoibly written, recorded, and delivered with such dead-pan brilliance by Allen herself that it’s hard to think of anything bad to say about it. So I won’t.

This is pop-music as it should be. Speaking to kids directly about real everyday things we all experience/have experienced, never patronising the listener, no studio-trickery or bullshit cameos from fat cunto rappers. Just raw, undiluted talent with a bag of tunes in one hand and a lipstick-marked, half-slurped Smirnoff Ice in the other.

Give this a whirl, you might enjoy yourself. I did. Seventy times, apparently.
 

Buffet Rating:

9/10

Fancy a taste? Try these:

Smile, LDN, Friday Night, Littlest Things.