With her debut album Frank, Amy Winehouse proves to be one of the most original, honest and brave singer/songwriters to emerge in recent years. Over the course of the 13 songs, she manages to do everything required of a classic album. This is a stark piece of work, comprising husky, frequently sexually charged vocals, painfully honest lyrics and soft trumpets, laidback beats and sparse guitar work. It seems that soulful jazz doesn't always have to be bland--it can also be playful, twisted and arrogant ("Amy Amy Amy"). "Fuck Me Pumps" charts a seemingly guilt-free act of infidelity: "What do you expect when you leave me here alone?" she asks coyly, as if by way of justifiable explanation. "You wouldn't want me to be lonely," she adds. You can't help warming to her, despite what she's saying. A unique sense of humour (how rare in music now) and a no-bull attitude make for an interesting, compelling debut. Frank? Yes, but refreshingly so. You wouldn't want her for a girlfriend, but as a life companion she may yet prove indispensable. --Cortman Virtue
Review by John Bush
If a series of unfortunate comparisons (like the ones to follow) cause listeners to equate British vocalist Amy Winehouse with Macy Gray, it's only natural. Both come on like a hybrid of Billie Holiday and Lauryn Hill who's had a tipple and then attempted one more late-night set at a supper-club than they should have. Despite her boozy persona and loose-limbed delivery, though, Winehouse is an excellent vocalist possessing both power and subtlety, the latter an increasingly rare commodity among contemporary female vocalists (whether jazz or R&B). What lifts her above Macy Gray is the fact that her music and her career haven't been marketed within an inch of their life. Instead of Gray's stale studio accompaniments, Winehouse has talented musicians playing loose charts behind her with room for a few solos. Instead of a series of vocal mellifluities programmed to digital perfection, Winehouse's record has the feeling of being allowed to grow on its own -- without being meddled with and fussed over (and losing its soul in the process). Simply hearing Winehouse vamp for a few minutes over some Brazilian guitar lines on "You Sent Me Flying" is a rare and immense pleasure. Also, like Nellie McKay (but unlike nearly all of her contemporaries), Winehouse songs like "Fuck Me Pumps," "Take the Box," and "I Heard Love Is Blind" cast a cool, critical gaze over the music scene, over the dating scene, and even over the singer herself. With "In My Bed," she even proves she can do a commercial R&B production, and a club version of "Moody's Mood for Love" not only solidifies her jazz credentials but proves she can survive in the age of Massive Attack.
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