Conor Maynard, Tim Burgess, Jessie Ware
This week’s singles reviewed by NME’s Kevin EG Perry
Conor Maynard Feat. Wiley – ‘Animal’
There’s an episode of The Simpsons where Bart leads a trip to Shelbyville to recapture Springfield’s famous Lemon Tree. On the mission, flouncing nerd Martin is paired with arch-bully Nelson, who reluctantly finds himself having to provide muscular protection for his weedy companion. This is how I imagine Wiley feels about Maynard on this track. It needs less of Maynard and a lot more Wiley.
Kwes – ‘Rollerblades’
If I tried to chat someone up by singing “Your eyes say to me/Come rollerblade with me”, I’d get nowhere. Kwes, however, is cooler, so it works. This, the follow-up to his Warp debut ‘Meantime’, is gorgeous and idiosyncratic. Plus there’s a bit that sounds almost exactly like Sam Cooke’s ‘Wonderful World’. Get your skates, Kwes, you’ve pulled.
Julio Bashmore – ‘Husk’
It’s generally accepted that the second best thing about Julio Bashmore (after making puns on his amazing surname) is the absolutely massive ‘Au Seve’. ‘Husk’ is not ‘Au Seve: Part Deux’, but that’s actually a good thing as it’s a slow-burner that proves he’s no one-trick pony. Still not as much fun as saying ‘Julio Mashedmore’, ‘Julio Lashmore’ etc etc though.
Tim Burgess – ‘Doors Of Then’
“Oh no, I love you” sings mop-topped bleach-botherer Tim Burgess on this single – which is not a great thing to say to your partner, especially during the physical act of love. Maybe that’s why Tim’s coming over more hopelessly twee than vintage Belle & Sebastian. It’s lovely and all, but next time, Tim, try: “Amazeballs! I love you!” Now that’s romance.
Jessie Ware – ‘Sweet Talk’
Good news, fans of sultry ’80s R&B ballads! Jessie Ware is here to help us embrace our inner ’80s soul-pop divas with these seductive sweet nothings. Musical chameleon Julio Bashmore (him again!) turns up on production duties, and Ware’s distinctive glossy vocals lift this up and beyond standard ‘music your mum likes too’.
Amelia Lily – ‘Shut Up (And Give Me Whatever You Got)’
At the end of last year I went on the traditional festive night out with a handful of old school friends to the dilapidated nightclub where we used to drink underage. It was awful and they played this song by X Factor bronze medallist Amelia Lily. Listening to it makes me feel like a mad relic of a time before homogenized pop, adrift in a world of sticky floors and fluorescent shots.