Cursing Welsh singer-producer Jem Griffiths with the cruel tag ‘the brunette Dido’, as many have done, is deeply unfair – would Dido have the spunk to sample cheesy-but-brilliant 1960s French bum-ba-dee-doo merchants The Swingle Singers, as Jem does on Top Ten-storming humdinger "They"? Of course not. Nor does "No Angel" filch bits from crackly old Bollywood films, JS Bach and Pinky and Perky, or dedicate a song to Bill Hicks.
In fact, much about Jem is contrivedly anti-Dido. There is a definite move, for example, to market her to the thrift-shop hipster: both the artwork and the production aim for the exact same vintage, uncovered-in-the-attic vibe that got Joss Stone’s "Soul Sessions" listened to by jazz Nazis who’d otherwise have used it to perch their triple espresso on. The simple, three-colour cover looks like an old Blue Note sleeve – even featuring the word ‘stereo’ for anyone who thinks they're buying a wax cylinder. The production, by Griffiths with Yoad Nevo (who also plays all instruments from bass to banjo), favours lots of noir-ish faux-vinyl hiss – a trick pulled off by Portishead in the 90s and since used by anyone needing a top-coat of quick-dry cool.
The songs themselves largely keep apace with the image. Jem’s deadpan tones sound like a slightly huskier, sluttier Beth Orton, and while nothing quite matches the beguiling "They" – not even with hitmeister Brian Higgins onboard for "Falling For You" – she strikes the odd thimbleful of gold. Overall, the crunchy beats‘n’loops and student-next-door lyrics slip down pleasantly enough, especially in the sunny ska-pop of "Wish I", which nods to Blondie’s "The Tide Is High".
The Nelly Furtado-ish "Just A Ride" is in no way the lamest musical ode to the carpe-diem philosophy that’s ever been committed to injection-moulded aluminium. And she’s not afraid of gothic subject matter, either: "24 Hours" tackles the far-from-girly theme of being a day from execution (“In 24 hours they’ll be laying flowers on my life”) while "Missing You" is not about being dumped, but about a dead chap (“I wish this could be a happy song…Please say he didn’t die”).
Yup. "Thank You" it ain’t.
