Matthew E. White is a kind of phenomenon in contemporary pop-folk music. With only two solo albums to his name, the musician and songwriter from Richmond, Virginia, has not only achieved a good level of popularity but also a certain esteem, and today is seen as comparable and considered on par with other trendy names like Justin Vernon, M. Ward, Damien Jurado, John Grant, and probably even Sufjan Stevens...

Of course, I don't want to underestimate his abilities, even though none of his productions have particularly captivated me so far. They are works in which a certain 'aesthetic' is fundamental and are rich in intellectual pretensions both in terms of songwriting and arrangements.

Always striving to appear to us as a new John Lennon and the new messiah of pop music, Matthew E. White this time appears to the public accompanied by Flo Morrissey, a very young performer and musician from London with whom he has released his latest album, 'Gentlewoman, Ruby Man' (Glassnote).

The album has actually been out for a few months, since last January, but I have delved into listening to it only these days.

Positively presented by the critics, since it is a cover album, I frankly didn't expect much, but I had heard something from Flo Morrissey's first album and her vocal qualities seemed interesting to me. Consequently, believing that these would have a central role within the dynamics of the album, which was supposed to be a real opportunity for our very young singer from across the Channel to shine, I finally pushed myself to listen to the album from beginning to end more than once.

The final verdict largely confirms my initial impressions.

The album opens with a cover of Little Wings' 'Look At What the Light Did Now', a song presented as a preview before the album's release and arranged with a style balanced between soul music, 70s rock, and a certain mainstream pop music. Sung in two voices, even though the song was evidently considered among the best and used promotionally, I don't consider it one of the most successful, and who knows, perhaps precisely because of Matthew E. White's voice, which I frankly find unbearable.

The second track is Frank Ocean's 'Thinking 'Bout You'. Another episode I consider negligible, where Matthew E. White's voice clearly emulates Ocean's, leaving Flo Morrissey just the right space in the refrain. The minimal and dub-step arrangements, typical of the genre, reveal a certain groove, but the overall result is very unexciting: it could be any neo-black music radio hit like many others. Instead, the third track is 'Looking For You' by Nino Ferrer, and here things start to become more interesting. The atmospheres here are balanced between a certain neo-soul music and acid-jazz arrangements that highlight Flo Morrissey's vocal abilities in an enveloping performance that skillfully intertwines with vintage arrangements finally convincing and suitable for the context.

Also good is the cover of James Blake's 'The Colour in Anything', which rests mainly on Flo Morrissey's performance dominating an absolutely minimal arrangement, fully demonstrating that the real essence of this album lies in her vocal abilities and the great versatility she shows depending on the different occasions she is called upon.

'Everybody Loves The Sunshine' by Roy Ayers is distinguished by typically seventies arrangements and that typical funk groove of those years, but it is a song that works halfway and where there almost seem to be empty spaces between one verse and another: the constraint of singing the piece in two voices probably becomes in this case instead of an added value, a real limitation, so much so that we could very well speak of true 'castration complexes' on this occasion.

'Grease' by Barry Gibb, on the other hand, has to be said that it works very well. The two voices alternate wisely depending on the occasion on a freaky-psychedelic base and typical hypno atmospheres from seventies disco music. Matthew E. White manages to impress as a performer in this case, while Flo is simply magnetic.

With Leonard Cohen's 'Suzanne', the duo, in my opinion, makes a complete miss: it almost sounds like an improvised amateur recording, and there's truly nothing salvageable. But the album recovers with a joyful version of 'Sunday Morning' by Velvet Underground, rendered as a piano ballad and with the use of choirs in the chorus. Then a nice jazzy version of Charlotte Gainsbourg's 'Heaven Can Wait' with almost ironic tones and a certain cabaret humor that genuinely refresh an already very beautiful song.

The album concludes with a cover of George Harrison's 'Govindam', in which the band clearly mimics certain experimentalisms in the cross between British pop music and the oriental music typical of a band like Cornershop. The sound is characterized by a convincing and percussive groove, but above all, as in the other best moments of the album, what is convincing is the voice of this young singer, Flo Morrissey, who, although the album overall cannot surely be deemed sufficient, has had at least the opportunity to be in the spotlight and perform for a much wider audience than she could aspire to. Now, what she needs to do, in my opinion, is to detach from Matthew E. White, as well as from other overwhelming figures, and stand on her own feet to truly show us what she's made of.

As for Matthew E. White, however, the album doesn't really add anything to his productions: if you like him, very well, you might also like this album; otherwise, I honestly think you can skip it and wait directly for Flo Morrissey's next solo album to properly appreciate her talent and artistic sensitivity, which here is somehow compressed by the overwhelming and dominant presence of her partner.

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