Gabriella Cilmi
Lessons to Be Learned

THE REVIEW

Gabriella Cilmi.

By now, everyone knows her, and if not by name, then by the song "Sweet About Me," one of the biggest hits of the year just ended.

When the single was released, this young girl (she was 17 at the time of release) was adored by everyone, critics and public alike, with some calling her the pure and sole revelation of the year, others saying the song was simply a pure pop gem with strong blues sounds, others claiming she would surely bring a new chapter to the history of music. In short, a semi-deity.

And from the heights of her Mount Olympus, this young girl, alas, gives us her debut album.

The critics are ecstatic, the Times delights in giving her 4 stars without much fuss (I am keen to know how much the reviewer was paid) and it seems everyone else is competing to give her even more.

And, driven by a series of more than excellent reviews, and the fond memory of her first single, which, after all, being the essence of simplicity, had a very catchy, almost hypnotic tune (divine powers of such a goddess?), I ventured to purchase this album.

Without a doubt, I was in the mood for challenges.

My ears braced themselves to listen to good music, a bit of pastime pop. And, after the opening of the two modest tracks "Save The Lies" and the just mentioned "Sweet About Me," my eardrums start to scream and beg for mercy.

This, in fact, is nothing other than the latest arrival of the Winehouse clone generation, yes, because if she had been born three years earlier, we would have found her doing dance pop 'à la Britney' with bleached hair and breasts on display, now, however, people like aggressive girls, who treat boys badly, and who have that very retro vibe.

She, however, has nothing, except an impressive voice, wasted on songs that express nothing, like "Sanctuary," a recently released single, which seems like it’s going to take off at any moment but can never quite do so, tracks that try to blend a light blues sound with something a bit more danceable (commercial matters) like dance pop ("Don't Want To Go Bed Now"), some ballads so dull they seem like a black hole ("Einstein," "Sit In The Blues") and some tracks with a sound tainted with a brush ("Cigarettes And Lies," "Terrifying").

Unfortunately, the album leaves us with nothing in our hands, so much so that even when a track is good ("Awkward Games," "Safer," "Echo Beach"), we feel nothing but a very bitter aftertaste of falseness, of songs designed only to please the masses, disregarding quality, whether it’s there or not.

And it seems not even this was the time when someone would salvage the musical situation. And it feels like the millionth time I've repeated this sentence.

I console myself thinking that in a couple of seasons, when the record label has squeezed her dry and realizes she won't produce any more juice, she'll disappear from circulation, or perhaps, because really, she doesn't lack the voice, she will create a true album...