CD: Sky Ferreira - Night Time, My Time

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about Lily Allen, which you can call a victory for the omnipresent don’t-call-it-a-comeback PR campaign surrounding her forthcoming album. Specifically I’ve been thinking about how I was far less cynical in my early 20s, when I honestly believed that this girl with the trainers and the attitude had created something new: pop music that sounded like the sort of loud-mouthed, heart-on-sleeve, imperfect person that I was.

Lately I’ve been rolling my eyes at the calculated controversy of the week, clicking quickly past the mediocre new songs those controversies accompany, and wondering what it was that ever made me feel that way.

But I don’t regret it; not for a moment. And that’s why I hope that there’s a new generation in their late teens and early 20s who will come across Sky Ferreira’s Night Time, My Time stripped of the ponderous think-pieces about her drug bust and her nips on the cover and her friendship with fellow pop bad girl du jour Miley Cyrus and enjoy it as an honest, coherent pop album by a loud-mouthed, heart-on-sleeve, imperfect person. “I blame myself… for my reputation” might be the lyric that stands out for those looking for the easy story on the album’s catchiest, most immediate track (and there are lots of memorable hooks here, so that’s not damning with faint praise) but it’s the preceding lines - “how could you know what it feels like to be outside yourself? you think you know me so well” - that will hit home to those to whom this album will mean most.

It’s not all self-reflection, of course: Ferreira has romance, or at least some kind of lust-at-first-sight approximation of it, in her sights on tracks like “24 Hours” and magnificent album opener “Boys”. On the latter, the 21-year-old starts out dismissive and effortlessly cool over grinding, industrial bass until a nameless object of affection puts a lightness and her “faith back in boys” by the bridge. The former boasts a chorus filled with something close to desperation, a contrast to the not-a-note-out-of-place Eighties synth pop of its verses. “You’re Not The One” and “Heavy Metal Heart” pop and clang like Shirley Manson covering Nine Inch Nails, while the abrupt ending of shimmering pop wonder “Love In Stereo” leaves the listener aching for more.

Overleaf: watch the video for "You're Not The One"