Confess retains the humid fog that saturated Forget, but the instrumentation is brighter, louder, and sharper
Confess isn’t just steeped in the sounds of an era, but in its films, feel, stories and sense of aspiration.
For now at least, Lewis is able to balance style and substance with consummate ease.
The 10 songs on Confess operate only in power moves, the verses sneering, seducing, doing whatever they can to draw the listener in before every choruses ascends and explodes.
The collection is streamlined, but not minimal, and it boasts stylish anger that could soundtrack a thousand fashion collections.
Instead of the dreamy, romantic elements of its predecessor, this time round it’s harder, faster and louder.
Even if Confess is a decidedly less personal affair than its predecessor, it’s no less enjoyable.
Confess is front-loaded; its first five tracks would have made a killer EP, but the other half is much spottier.
While Confess finds Lewis’ individuality poured into the brew, there are only a few tracks on the album that have super-powered hooks, and as a clear pop album, that’s a hiccup.
The heavy wear upon new wave revivalism in the past few years has really limited the scope of this album as per its originality.
The only thing that’s clear about Confess is what’s missing: a sense of intimacy, of seduction, of verisimilitude.
|# 35 -||DIY|
|# 1 -||Gigwise|
|# 27 -||No Ripcord|
|# 21 -||Obscure Sound|
|# 22 -||Pretty Much Amazing|
|# 23 -||The Fly|
|# 27 -||Under the Radar|
|# 8 -||Urban Outfitters|