Leona Lewis
I Am
11 September 2015
Another day, another album from an endlessly rotating roster of pop singers who are all basically the same, give or take a few notes in their range. This time, it’s former X Factor winner Leona Lewis’ turn to be critiqued.
Being among the elite few who have actually survived victory, Lewis is still selling albums, albeit via the charts, and not as a part of her Saturday at HMV Islington. However, eternal success is never a guarantee, and so in order to keep her flame alight, Lewis has decided to try and write more songs about self-empowerment and personal strength, but, as you’ll quickly discover, the results aren’t particularly inspiring.
‘Fire Under My Feet’ attempts to compensate Lewis’ questionable attempts to shove as many words into a 4/4 time signature as possible, with results not too dissimilar to the ones you would receive if you tried to cram Kanye West’s ego into a single room (this is otherwise known as a mess). ‘Essence of Me’ is comparable to Katy Perry’s ‘Roar’, albeit with more reverb and more reticence. The other songs on this album don’t fare much better.
If you happen to suffer from narcolepsy, then this album is perfect for you
Perhaps the most notorious offender on this second-rate scrapbook is the fact that most of these songs seem to want to be athematic calls-to-arms, bastions of independence if you will. Unfortunately, this endeavour does not seem to yield the results necessary to achieve this. Her lead single, ‘Thunder’, is one of the most notable examples of this, attempting to act as a celebration of independence, but without any form of dynamic shift outside of the mezzo range. The results are disappointing and far from empowering.
In addition, the fact that every instrument (including Lewis’ voice) has been mixed to relatively equal levels means that the words are lost in this adrenaline-lacking cacophony. Big powerful pop songs need big production, but if the people who worked on this album are too timid to at least try to give the songs at least some form of oomph, then I’m afraid that I cannot commend them for achieving their intended goal, because they haven’t.
And then there is Lewis’ voice. Although it does indeed carry emotion and humane resonance, it is a voice for the ballads. It lacks the grit needed to express determination, and it forsakes volume for fragility, in spite of what the themes dealt with concern.
If you happen to suffer from narcolepsy, then this album is perfect for you. Whilst this might be Lewis’ idea of thunder, all I feel is a mildly irritating drizzle.
