![]() All told, with storylines given the reigns, it’s a surprisingly timid affair when regarding the overall sound and the domineering presence of its influences. That being said, Let Her Burn is not a bold artistic statement. Perhaps a cut above ‘competent,’ then, in all fairness. ![]() Such hiccups are easily ignored when earworm choruses are in abundance, ranging from the seductive “Crumbs” and its glitchy interior to the melodic, anthemic “Look At You.” A listener is left plenty to dance to, some subtle, serene jams for late-night drives, grooves to get down to at a club, and a decent supply of hooks to tie things together. In contemporary pop fashion, it’s designed as a grab-bag of singles where album cohesion is a happy accident rather than an intentional endeavor. In terms of variety, there’s something for everyone a whiff of ye olde 80s comes in the likes of “Sick To My Stomach” and its dreamy synths, a tinge of modern hyperpop creeps into energetic opening duo “Erase You” and “Destroy Me”-the latter tosses in a heavy electric guitar for good measure, almost pop-punk-ish in its driving nature-“Misery Loves Company” evolves from a reverberating bass into something resembling synthwave, and so on and so on. Black’s production is strong, and their gentle vocal performance purveys a sense of vulnerability befitting lyrics that lean into personal realms, however cliched they may become as they detail messy breakups, teenage-esque angst, and sexy-sexy-explicit time. Yes, this is a fine, competent album that albums like a good album should. Is that what the 30-minute LP embodies? Well… The stage seems set for an act of defiance. It can be seen in an art piece that features Black’s world burning down slowly around them, or their much-altered public image, or, hell, even the title of the damn album. Regardless of how much stock is put into external variables, all routes lead to this: a debut record that, while a debut, seems more like a comeback, a response to the bullsh*t that follows lockstep with Black’s career. This can be ignored and Black’s debut can, in fact, be placed in a vacuum-doing so likely exposes its faults in a manner that the aforementioned wouldn’t allow-but I do not deal in vacuums, and neither does art it reacts, and those reactions can contain substantial intrigue. Why it seemed so different in Rebecca Black’s case was in its intensity how hate mail cluttered the inbox of a child, in how death threats allegedly pestered their family, how a lawsuit and a contract dispute muddied waters and exposed (again) the dark corners of the music industry-it was a mess, a mess that breeds narratives, context, and subtext, all of which inform Let Her Burn to the extent an individual lets it. ![]() Once that joke ran out of steam, Coldpay fit the bill, then Imagine Dragons did that f*cking th-thunder song and it was a swift promotion to butt monkey. ![]() Is Nickelback genuinely the worst rock artist ever? Probably not, but that’s irrelevant they were singled out amidst the sea of post-grunge bile, and that was that. The zeitgeist always enjoys a punching bag, and once the zeitgeist has made its mind on the punching bags and the not-punching bags, it’s etched into gospel. ![]() Review Summary: This is not a commercial for vacuums. ![]()
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