You could, after all, argue that, as the leader of 90s soft-rock titans Texas, the Glaswegian was channelling – or at least offering a knowing wink towards – the same vintage divas whose shadow hangs low and heavy over the present generation of white soul starlets. However she’s justified such shameless trend-hopping to herself, there’s no question but that, after a three-year sojourn during which she’s married and had a baby, Spiteri is hankering for a chunk of the action, and isn’t afraid to be obvious about it. She opens her solo debut with ‘It Was You’, a wham-bam gallop of ersatz blues that suggests Duffy’s ‘Mercy’ with the angst dialed up a notch: from anyone else but Spiteri it might come on like a desperate lunge for relevancy, but her smoky warble ensures she never sounds anything less than charming.
Thereafter, she tinkles with the formula a little: the honeyed pop rush of ‘All The Times I Cried’ harks back to Texas’ heyday as unabashed bubble-gum vendors (recalling, in particular, ‘Secret Smile’s giddy ‘Yeah Yeah’ refrain); while ‘Day Tripping’ materialises in a haze of Bacharach horns and Elton John pianos.
Alas, she sometimes forgets the gameplan and strays down avenues best left unexplored: ‘You Let Me Down’ is a faux jazz dally that, like a Portishead B-side with a hangover, plods on interminably without ever managing to muster much in the way of a hook; and ‘I’m Going To Haunt You’ has aspirations to be, of all things, a Johnny Cash ballad.