So seamless it handily overshadows her previous mashups, Kidsticks could—and should—inspire Beth Orton to take greater stylistic liberties in the future. Don’t call it folktronica. Call it pop, with all the inclusiveness the word implies, and stay tuned.
Channelling some of Orton's high school heroes (Kate Bush, Talking Heads, Plastic Letters-era Blondie), Kidsticks is akin to visiting a mellow, experimental dance club with a time-traveling ethereal poet; kinda punk rock, idiosyncratic and organic even as it's awash in keyboards.
On Kidsticks, she no longer sounds like she has anything left to prove, which is precisely what's allowed her to make the riskiest album of her career. And she sounds like she's had the time of her life making it, too.
Kidsticks's risk-taking, while not always on point, proves Orton capable of reinvention. She's still a voice worth listening to.
In the end, Kidsticks’ raw material is sound, and Orton’s attention to detail is impressive. But this adventurous approach could use a bit more structure and cohesion next time around.
Quite a change for Beth Orton to restart her career through her american debut that takes her back to her electronic roots, peppered with a little bit of alternative dirt in order to make it more tempting.
Good luck!
1 | Snow 4:12 | |
2 | Moon 4:02 | |
3 | Petals 3:58 | |
4 | 1973 2:53 | |
5 | Wave 3:16 | |
6 | Dawnstar 4:47 | |
7 | Falling 4:22 | |
8 | Corduroy Legs 3:01 | |
9 | Flesh and Blood 5:43 | |
10 | Kidsticks 1:16 |
#34 | / | Fopp |