MELANIE CReason
MOLOKO
Statues
CLIPSE
Lord Willin'
IT HASN’T BEEN the best of weeks for the Beckhams. First, David gets a boot in the face from the boss, then Posh gets a poke in the eye from old band mate Mel C. At least, that’s what you suspect went on when the Spice Girls got together over dinner at Posh Palace to discuss a reunion reckoned to be worth £100 million to the posse.
Who wouldn’t have wanted to be a fly on the designer decor that night? Sadly, no flies have gone on the record, but one rumour is that Mel B is running out of money and was up for it. Posh, as though we didn’t know, is running out of reasons to get her face on the front pages, so she was in. Emma, meanwhile, is about to get too big for her baby doll dresses and said yes, and since Geri seems to be in the mood for anything these days, she’d agree too.
The one stumbling block is Melanie C. Not plain old Mel any more, certainly not Sporty and, despite facing jibes about her sexuality and her shape for a while, the only former Spice to have made a decent stab at a solo career. Right now, the newly slim Ms Chisholm needs a Spice Girls reunion like Michael Jackson needs another balcony.
Why not? For a start, Mel doesn’t need the money. There’s no staff-stuffed country estate to keep up, no kids to keep in Gucci and no greedy former husbands to keep at bay. And even if there were, three million sales of her solo debut, Northern Star, would cover the costs. Much more importantly, by mid-March, she could be sitting on top of the album charts, all on her own and raking in the royalties, with Reason (Virgin).
Nearly four years after the patchy Northern Star, Melanie C has made an album that should shake off the spectre of Spice. It isn’t earth-shatteringly special and it won’t win any awards, but Reason is more than enough reason to put that reunion on ice. As on her debut, Chisholm tries her hand at all sorts of musical styles — radio-friendly pop-rockers, simple, piano-accompanied ballads, sluggish beats-backed midtempo tunes and Madonna-style, acoustic guitar tracks — only this time she does it far better. The opener and first single, Here it Comes Again, co-written with the Madonna collaborator Marius De Vries and former Blow Monkeys frontman Dr Robert, is typically catchy, some sweet slowies show she can sing, and the production is reassuringly slick.
There is a hitch, however. Reason just isn’t a cool album. It’s partly that Mel’s voice is so soulless, that she’s trying too hard to please everyone and that she has roped in all the usual suspects on co-songwriting duties — Gregg Alexander, Phil Thornally and Rick Nowels, to name just three. Mainly, though, it’s because Melanie C sounds like a female Ronan Keating. She doesn’t sing like Keating — OK, she does a couple of times — it’s more that she shares his workmanlike approach to making pop music. And to writing lyrics — “My love is flowing freer than a waterfall” anyone? But she’ll be happy to sell as well as him.
As for the Spices? “I’d rather leave the past behind/ Don’t wanna talk about it no more,” sings Melanie on Lose Myself in You. Good move, girl.
If the prospect of working with old bandmates is problematic, working with an ex-lover must be a nightmare. Or so you would think. But after recording three albums as a couple, Roisin Murphy, singer with Moloko, and musical sidekick Mark Brydon, have managed to divide the cutlery and still collaborate on Statues (Echo). What’s more, rather than broody songs about break-ups, Statues is packed with the sort of summery dance pop made to be played at beach bars in Ibiza.
Moloko, however, are no run-of-the-mill club kids. The pair write proper songs (and record them with lots of live musicians), not join-the-dots dancefloor fillers, and Statues takes a few listens before it starts to sink in. Like most of the album, the current single Familiar Feelings sounds wishy-washy at first, then grows all over you. It begins with a full two minutes of jittery beats that slowly speed up, a funky guitar part, percussion and one endlessly repeated line of lyrics. It builds to a crazy crescendo, sounds for a second or so like a blast of music from a James Bond car chase, then breaks into a breezy pop song backed by half an orchestra and topped with Murphy’s gorgeous, glacial vocals. And that’s just for starters.
Elsewhere, there are trumpet and trombone-fuelled fiesta tunes, full-on disco stompers, classy techno tunes and a song (Come On) that sounds like Tori Amos at an electroclash club. There’s a hitch here too, however. Moloko’s music is too cold to really mean much to anyone. It’s clever stuff and a pleasant listen, but you could put Statues on at a dinner party and not bother anyone. Which is OK if you’re eating, but not if you’re 18 and ready to rumble.
My new year’s resolution was never to mention the Neptunes again, but what’s the point? The Atlanta production duo responsible for more hits last year than anyone else are still busy and Clipse, a veteran hip-hop outfit made up of two brothers, is the latest beneficiary of their awesome studio skills. Think Missy and Timbaland meeting a foul-mouthed Nelly and his drug-dealing cartoon twin.
Brilliant beats, lots of original ideas, a reggae duet with Sean Paul, plenty of potential singles and a surefire hip-hop hit. The language, however, is foul and Clipse have a Neanderthal attitude to women. If you don’t mind, Lord Willin’ (Arista) is a classic. If you do, don’t go near it.
