Kirsty MacColl
Electric Landlady

THE REVIEW

Perhaps this writing of mine will seem more like a declaration of love than a review, perhaps to some it will appear cloying and mawkish, and if so, I apologize in advance, but it is not easy to talk about an album that meant so much to me without completely giving in to my feelings. It is difficult for me to remain clear-headed and detached when talking about my little queen, the one who holds the very personal scepter of the female voice of my soul, but it is worth trying.

 After the raw, colorful, and enthusiastic debut "Desperate Character" in 1981 and a much-anticipated and very admirable, albeit a bit naive, second album "Kite" in 1989, Kirsty MacColl hits the winning stroke in 1991 with "Electric Landlady", never was a title more misleading. The wonderful plain and simple singer-songwriter's eclectic creativity is expressed at the height of her flair, her voice is a true wonder, her lyrics are much more mature and aware compared to the past, without losing any of her candid and immediate spontaneity, and her stylistic range reaches its maximum openness. "Electric Landlady", despite the title, is the highest expression of the most folk, dreamy, disillusioned, melancholic, cheerful, in love Kirsty, an artist who knows how to speak about moods and emotions, reaching straight to my heart like no other.

Among the twelve multicolored petals forming this wonderful flower that is "Electric Landlady", some stand out more among the soft shades of the album, such as "Walking Down Madison". Co-written with Johnny Marr and originally intended for Alison Moyet, Kirsty perfectly performs this bright example of rock/hip-hop crossover, enriched by Marr's biting guitar and Aniff Cousins's closing rap, a song of extraordinary class and quite avant-garde for those years, the Latin flavor of "My Affair", a delightful mariachi brass serenade and a frank declaration of independence and freedom, and the first clear example of her love for the sounds and colors of America south of the Rio Grande, which would lead her years later to create another masterpiece like "Tropical Brainstorm" and a sharp "Lying Down", a mid-tempo with almost alternative rock sounds tending to rock-blues, characterized by a pulsing bass and moderately distorted guitars, the hardest song ever written by Kirsty MacColl, ennobled by a fascinating and at times cryptic lyric.

Despite these electric surges, this remains an album of rare and exquisite sweetness. Despite the title, the sounds are predominantly acoustic, the atmosphere is one of refined and bittersweet pop-folk, ranging from a melancholic and enveloping bossa nova like "We'll Never Pass This Way Again" to one of Kirsty's first loves, country, well represented by the lively "All I Ever Wanted", closed by an incisive harmonica solo. Ultimately, this is precisely the winning card of "Electric Landlady", the ability to combine sweetness and reflection with lightness and cheerfulness in order to create a smooth, harmonious and perfectly balanced album: carefree episodes (at least on the surface) like "He Never Mentioned Love" and the lilting folk of "The Hardest Word" alternate with poignant emotional peaks like "The One And Only", marked with the melancholic and unmistakable touch of friends Pogues, in memory of the "Fairytale Of New York" times. The dreamy and enchanting alt-country serenade of "Maybe It's Imaginary", adorned with impeccable fiddle, and the anti-militarist ballad "Children Of The Revolution", another collaboration with Johnny Marr, both link thematically and with semi-electric sounds to the previous album "Kite". Finally, there is the pearl among pearls, a song that fully represents the spirit of "Electric Landlady": "Halloween", a wonderful melody, dreamy, a bit melancholy but at the same time light and engaging, enriched by winds, strings, and electric guitar, conveying a beautiful message: never forget the child within us, never relinquish innocence, fantasy, joy of living, because it's impossible to escape from dreams.

Now, I have no idea what the objective value of "Electric Landlady" is according to the qualified opinion of some esteemed professor and music critic, nor am I interested in knowing it. I only know that for me this is the best album of 1991, perhaps just flights of fancy of a sensitive guy, but the microcosm of Kirsty MacColl, and of this album in particular, perfectly coincides with mine. Everything in "Electric Landlady", primarily that soft, light, and expressive voice, but also the sounds, lyrics, arrangements, every little nuance feels as if it belongs to me intimately. This is not an album I admire from a detached listener's distance like many other great masterpieces, but I seem to live it firsthand every time I listen to it, and it is always a wonderful sensation.