British pop singer reinvents style, sound with latest album ‘Girl Talk’
The British pop princess has striped bright eyes and bold colors for ruby red lips and a black-netted peplum dress. She’s almost unrecognizable — a yellow-checked sundress and curled auburn locks have turned to black hair, black jackets and lots of black mascara.
Kate Nash, who first grew to Internet success in 2007 with her album “Made of Bricks,” was the fresh-faced, 19-year-old girl from London with a light, tongue-in-cheek kind of appeal. She wasn’t a generic kind of pop — there were no sad songs chronicling the struggle of teen love with the steady strum of an acoustic guitar.
Instead, she was biting, in an ironic way.
Her most defining single, “Foundations,” is about a relationship gone sour. She is still holding on, trapped in a bad brand of love, but she’s no sucker. She sings: “You said I must eat so many lemons, / ‘cause I am so bitter. / I said ‘I’d rather be with your friends mate, / ‘cause they are much fitter.’”
Get it, girl.
Now, Nash is trying to shake up the melodies that made her famous. The singer — who also released a track on the same debut album titled, “Dickhead” — is channeling some major girl power on her latest album, “Girl Talk,” released Monday in the U.S.
Where listeners would expect conversation hearts and dancing kittens at a kissing booth, like in Nash’s “Pumpkin Soup” video, in this album there are dark choruses and some heavy drums and guitar.
Nash took a few new liberties on the production side of her third album. Her first disc, produced by Paul Epworth, painted the young singer like her British contemporaries. “Girl Talk” was produced by Tom Biller out of Los Angeles, who’s worked with the likes of Silversun Pickups and Imaad Wasif of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. He’s much more in tune with the indie side of the business, and it shows in Nash’s tracks.
The first song on the album, “Part Heart,” is shocking — part unexpected and part sad. It’s love-drunk depression with a rock ‘n’ roll edge. Nash offers a small ode to her style transformation in the opening number — not only has she traded pastels for black and red, she’s lost weight and pinned back her bangs to lend to a much more sophisticated stare. She sings: “And it doesn’t matter / how many times I change my clothes / I still feel the same.”
There’s a dark rasp, a kind of refined grunge to the singer’s voice we haven’t heard.
Once you hit track five in “Girl Talk,” you’re rocketed a few decades back to the time of real frontwomen — the days of female rock stars, lacing up leather boots or balancing on impossible stilettos as they cling to a microphone stand over the stage speakers.
“Sister” drums up that image. It puts you in the crowd, looking to the front for a possible crowd surf. As she draws to the end of the anthem with a sarcastic, “Me, myself and I, / I’m so funny / OH MY GOD HA HA,” her vocals get plain gritty. She’s pissed at a boy, or a girl. I’m not completely sure how “sister” rolls in these lyrics.
Then there is “Rap for Rejection.” If there was any doubt about Nash’s new rally for feminism, this song clears it all up: “You’re tryna tell me sexism doesn’t exist? / If it doesn’t exist, then what the f--k is this?”
In the indie pop rap — actual rap — she gets real with stereotypes. She starts the completely snarky and oh-so-lovely rundown with, “I’m a stupid whore / And a frigid b---h / Now can you make up your mind / and tell me which is which?” It progresses down to a list of injustices against women, in rhyme, with strong words against female castration, domestic violence, racism and homophobia.
Track 14, called “You’re So Cool, I’m So Freaky,” is just as biting. Nash is not happy with someone — perhaps the same “Dickhead” — and she’s making an example of him. She’s sarcastic and smart and tackling real issues with such disdain that you can’t help but smile.
“Girl Talk” closes with “Lullaby for an Insomniac.” It’s just Nash’s voice, completely a capella, until two and a half minutes in, when listeners are dazzled with an impromptu orchestral performance — a ballet of strings.
The violins fade to silence, and the girl talk is over.