John Grant
Queen of Denmark

Ah… the impertinence of albums with a big face on the cover! How many of those are there that you can no longer stand to see among the shelves of the few stores left? Mostly churned-out products, leftovers from some reality show. Photoshop, frocioshop! Remember, it wasn’t always like this! It’s important! How many of them called you for a brief listen and for the ultimate Conquest. Remember? The Irish eyes? And the sepia-tinted shyness? What about the smell of cigar that reached your nostrils? And the sister of the more famous brother?

John Grant's debut falls into the fantastic category of “albums with a big face” and it immediately captivated me. All it took was an imprecise, out-of-focus shot of this splendid queen of Denmark and her world became mine as well. When the albums with a big face are debuts, you almost always agree that they are people with great character and many insecurities.

This big American man with a clean voice sings a piano folk pop drawing partly from the '70s and partly from the crap-of-his-life-so-far. Alcohol, drugs, isolation. A less grandiose but equally desperate Antony Hegarty, it seems. An Elton John without the heels. Certainly less theatrical but equally moving. Queen of Denmark has no weak spot. It's a perfect album, melancholic, but with a controlled melancholy. An album that, once it finishes, you leave it there. You don't listen to it again immediately. Rather, you place it nicely on the shelf. Like a photograph. Like a portrait. You wait.