Has Romance Made The Xx Go Soft In 2017?

So customers, welcome to 2017 where even some of those angsty indie kiddies might be trying a slightly more positive attitude – perhaps as balance to American shooting itself in both feet so obviously.

Even those who normally can be staring moodily into the middle distance as The xx are going for something slightly more heart-warming, as Say Something Loving (Young Turks/Remote Control) dovetails nicely with the announcement of Romy’s engagement – to her costume designer and sometime visual artist, naturally – which will guarantee a few more mentions in the mainstream media for a song that might not-uncomfortably carry descriptors such as ‘uplifting’. It passes in a stately fashion, with just enough of a furrowed brow to still be recognisably their work. 

Others are taking their obviously steps toward the mainstream. Although calling their song Rooting For You (Metal & Dust) again underlines the dangers of possible international misunderstandings by choice of words. This is London Grammar getting bigger again, although its construction has it going from the uncomfortable intimacy of Hannah Reid’s slightly-strained vocals sit starkly exposed at first, before the plaintiveness falls away as the strings well up. This orchestral approach is apparently what they’re aiming for now, which can only help them not just being a music trivia question later in 2017 - being the band people were trying to rush to see when that unpleasantness occurred at the recent Falls Festival.

If many listed their music genre as ‘authentic’, they’d be rightly laughed and pointed at for the smugness of the answer. But somehow, you don’t think that when it’s Gin Wigmore in question. For Dirty Mercy (Island) she typically rips in, the music and the message spooling out in bluesy and slightly clenched manner you’ve come to expect. The fact she’s still a middling attraction while some others tilling a similar furrow are hugely lauded, again just underlines that the world is just not really fair, now is it? 

Almost contradictorily, you can be trained at the Boston Conservatory, end up living in the Queensland hinterland, but make music that can reasonably be described as Americana-ish – perhaps it’s the time and distance adding to the feeling of melancholy to it. Jen Mize makes rich, feeling, woody music – with the banjos held just enough in check. Deepwater (Pathfinder Music) knows the forms and constructions of the genre, speaks with sincerity to you, and makes you think she might even know a bit more than she’s giving away. And you are left wanting to ask her about that.

You also like that Will Halliday simply calls himself a ‘bedroom folkie’ – although his Faceo profile tells me he’s gone to cricket today, giving him bonus points right there. As the title might suggest Hangman’s Noose (Independent) is a slice of Australiana gothic to it, with its stomp-and-groan worksong approach, and even a bit of Song Of The Volga Boatmen in its correct-feeling weary and resigned backing vocals. OK, sure he’s listened to a goodly amount of Cash and Cave, but he’s aware enough to know the difference.

The formal live album is a bit of a lost art of late – probably at least partly due to all those people holding their iPhones up at shows, and then posting it on YouTube – that’s not you, is it? Going against the conventions - which is not an unusual stance for them anyway – Sleater-Kinney decide recording an entire show is as good a reason as any to go to Paris. The audio element of this take on Surface Envy (Sub Pop) shows there’s still that slightly ragged enthusiasm both on and off the stage, while the visual element is more of the ‘historic document’ feeling to it, with flashbacks and blinks from shows in slightly dingy basements to facing down the masses at slightly dingy festivals as their almost deliberately anti-careerist career unfolds. Detailed viewing will also reveal a move to better quality hair-clips over the years.

And so, to a happy and wilful suspension of disbelief for the sake of entertainment – even only for the mums and dads who view The Voice religiously. That nice boy Ricky Martin, leaves his husband and kids at home to deliver an English-language version of his own Vente Pa’ Ca (Sony), a slightly wanton piece of beautifully assembled Latin pop froth with the added further somewhat confusing local element of Australia’s sweetheart, Delta Goodrem as the other voice in the attempted seduction. Now is it just me, or do you get a slightly puzzled feeling when our Delts tries be, er, ‘sexy’? It’s kinda the same head-scratch you do when Olivia Newton-John first stubs out that cigarette at the end of Grease. You know, you get the idea of it – but just don’t quite believe it.