Half a million albums is a hell lot of records to shift on charm alone, but diva-in-training Paloma Faith did it with her 2009 debut Do You Want The Truth Or Something Beautiful? Chock-full of vanilla retro soul pop, the ten-tracker showed absolutely no evidence of the highly talented individual we later discovered her to be.
On stage, Faith exudes an almost mythical quality. The untouchable commander of her own personal circus of glittered props, zany headpieces and crucially, a damn fine band of musicians, she’s both regal and goofy. In interviews, she typically outsmarts even the most cunning of interrogators. All, this, plus a rich, raspy voice to match her theatrical wardrobe. Astonishing.
For these reasons and more, I’m inclined to agree with Faith when she surmises that she’d be a major musical icon if she had been a performer in the ‘40s. Even critics were swayed by her underwhelming first album and I doubt she’ll receive a bad review for the follow up, Fall To Grace, in spite of its agonising flaws.
First, the good stuff. Album standout ‘Freedom’ starts off as a mournful spiritual, calling to mind Sam Cooke’s ‘A Change Is Gonna Come’, before transforming into an almighty beat-and-string-led Hosanna. Throughout Fall To Grace, Faith embraces the new as well as the old. The Ronettes-esque ‘Black & Blue’ puts her sharp wit to good use, with lines like, “I know people who use chat rooms as confessionals”, taking the song from caricature to legit ‘Independent Woman’-era anthem. Surprisingly, the album’s ballads work best, with simpler tracks like ‘Just Be’ giving just as many goosebumps as the hallelujah! moments.
The plodding ‘80s-aping ‘30-minute Love Affair’ and the throbbing R&B disco parody ‘Blood, Sweat And Tears’ are no great shakes: it’s not that all of Faith’s forays into electronic music fail (fizzing sob song ‘Agony’ is one of the album’s best tracks), just that the melodies often struggle to keep up with her dynamite delivery.
Still, while Fall To Grace contains the 26-year-old’s best material to date, it is not the album a superstar makes; it is, instead, a collection of theatrical, open-hearted, era-hopping songs that are mostly rather good… just not quite as sensational as the woman who’s singing them.