Number 7 of 2007 — Roísín Murphy: Overpowered

Over the past decade or so, Madonna’s music career has been marked by an obsession to remain relevant and cutting edge by enlisting producers who used their unique styles to bring her singular vision to the forefront of the industry. I’m sure that was the plan, but ironically, ever since Ray of Light she’s been involved with people whose best work is behind them. The results are songs that are a couple of years behind everyone else. It’s doubly ironic because she doesn’t recognise this.

All of this is an important back story to Overpowered because here Roísín Murphy has borrowed the fundamentals of Madonna’s best work (i.e. everything up to and including Erotica) and married them to sounds inspired by the sleek electro of Billie Ray Martin. Looking back over twenty years to generate music that firmly lives in the Noughties.

This makes Overpowered a wholly different experience to Ruby Blue, Roísín’s solo debut which was a natural development from her time as one half of Moloko. As a result, it’s more commercial – intentionally so – and successful, albeit with two problems that prevent it from being a beacon for modern pop music.

Kicking off proceedings is Overpowered. Placing the title track of an album right up front is always a dangerous thing, because it implies that the rest of the album isn’t up to much. Overpowered was also the lead single, so there’s a lot resting on this song. Despite some trancey blips and a moving bassline it underwhelms, lacking the momentum which usually propels Roísín’s singles, serving instead as an introduction to the overall sound of the album and to the subsequent track You Know Me Better.

You Know Me Better, co-written with Groove Armada’s Andy Cato provides a soul disco vibe complete with handclaps that could have been fliched directly from Madonna’s Spotlight. It’s a great song that is undermined by Roísín’s vocals – the first problem I have with this album. With Moloko, her vocals fitted the music and style perfectly. Arguably, her vocals gave Moloko its quirkiness – what would Fun For Me be with another voice? For this album, the vocals sometimes distract ones attention, reducing the impact of some songs, especially those that should have considerable emotional resonance. In contrast, Pandora, the final track from the iTunes version of the album (inexplicably absent from the CD) shows the benefit of focussing on a particular technique for a given song, thus demonstrating the marvellous voice that Roísín has and in turn building empathy with the listener. It’s just a question of being more selective. Primitive, for example, growls lustfully exactly as it should.

The paranoia of Checkin’ On Me approaches Electribe 101’s finest moment (that’s the Frankie Knuckles remix of Talking With Myself, by the way), complete with synth strings and horn stabs. This continues later with the fairly weak Tell Everybody, and here’s problem two: the length of the album. At 14 tracks – on my version – a couple of songs should have been deferred to singles, raising the overall quality of the album further: Movie Star, which is such a glaring Goldfrappism that someone should have spotted it and quietly made it a flipside, and Footprints. Footprints does have cowbells, which are one of my favourite percussive devices but I’d rather not hear a song that reminds me so much Prince’s Sign of the Times album. Without these tracks, Roísín’s paean to her father, Scarlet Ribbons might not sound so out of place. Dropping something this obvious into an album that’s best unwrapped gradually doesn’t feel right, and while I happily accepted Tori Amos’ The Beekeeper for Ribbons Undone or Ireland they found a place within that album’s concept. Scarlet Ribbons differs by arriving without such pretensions and it jars against the bioscience of Overpowered or the eco-dance Z-lister commentary of Dear Miami.

These two problems are on reflection, very minor quibbles, because the other tracks are collectively outstanding. The first arrives immediately after Checkin’ On Me: Lovers of piano house will adore Let Me Know, which gradually shakes and handclaps its way to a string laden break, before winding up once again. The aforementioned Dear Miami provides a minimal haunting reflection on humanity’s predictable demise. Billie Ray Martin’s No Brakes On My Rollerskates gets reborn on top of a sizzling Underworld bassline, electric crickets and more cowbells for Cry Baby and the final sequence of songs, Body Language, the chunky yet poignant Parallel Lives and Pandora’s synth-drenched finale are superb. What’s bizarre is that these three songs may or may not appear on the album, depending on which version you have – oh, and EMI have plans to release a ‘deluxe edition’ in July 2008, whatever that means.

Overpowered easily surpasses Ruby Blue, taking Roísín Murphy’s solo career in a direction sign-posted by the later Moloko singles. I hope that next time around, there’s more musical focus that can take her to the front of the pack.

Roísín Murphy: Overpowered – iTunes UK
Amazon UK
Official Website