Perhaps it’s just a rumour, but her EP is actually a promotional tool for a new line of piñatas.
[Video][Website]
[5.23]
Brad Shoup: Lot of shit going down here, which is the intention. The chorus comes from the target’s point of view, but it provides no clarity, just explosive wound-licking and “Maniac” keypress.
[5]
Edward Okulicz: The chorus and the outro both have a fierce urgency, both Howl’s voice (which is as if Kate Nash woke up with the self-belief of Florence Welch) and the pounding synths and beats making something that sounds impassioned and vital. The hackneyed message works through sheer force of delivery. It’s a shame, then, that the verses are very much plonked rhyming dictionary fare about cardboard cutouts that mean pretty much nothing (as if Lily Allen woke up with the worldview of Ed Sheeran).
[5]
Iain Mew: Howl sings a chorus which fights back in the face of rumours, calling for people to be given the freedom to experiment and learn to deal with who they are. Except she doesn’t sing it as herself, giving it to other characters with “if you asked her she would say…” and “and now they’re all singing” leading into each chorus. The first one might actually be about her; the plural going into the second one appears to rule out that possibility. Which is where the song doesn’t work for me, because it’s never clear where the rumours are coming from. It leaves her setting up the conflict to knock down herself, speaking for every character in the story. It’s a stretch the song can’t take, especially when she sings lines like “she’s really into dirty stuff” in a way that suggests enjoyment more than disapproval.
[3]
Patrick St. Michel: Hmmmm, I liked Howl more when she wasn’t trying to fill in for Lily Allen.
[5]
Crystal Leww: I like the phrasing of “Perhaps it’s just a rumour,” and I really like how it’s put through a distortion filter after “She may not be entirely straight.” It contrasts nicely with the chorus, where the vocal is clear and crisp and maximal. These rumors aren’t clear, the truth is obscured by the gossip, but it’s nice to her how Howl is confident, assured and brash in her journey for self-discovery.
[6]
Sabina Tang: Chlöe’s voice is intriguing enough for a start; the lyrics would be stronger if they progressed beyond platitude (people are just trying to find themselves, you don’t say?). Timex Social Club, for instance, brought hilarious comment-section cheap outrage to the same debate, while Lindsay Lohan exuded Mumford-esque grassroots authenticity. It has not slipped my attention that these latter two are vastly superior songs as well.
[4]
Rebecca A. Gowns: The lyrics are as corny as Timex Social Club. This is also as instantly dated as Timex Social Club; it sounds so of-the-moment that I fear for its longevity. Another aspect that the two songs share: if one of them pops up on the radio, there’s a 50/50 chance that I’ll either change the channel quickly, or hesitate a second then turn it up to bask in its undeniable beat.
[6]
Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: The production on Howl’s voice sounds overly fuzzed-out and fussed-over: it’s as though this approach pushes the idea that she’s singing “Rumour” into a crummy stocking-covered bedroom microphone rather than in the studios she’s surely inhabiting at this point. It’s an aesthetic move, intended to differentiate Howl within a glossy pop marketplace that doesn’t really exist anymore – the relatable normal-girl-with-a-twang image she holds, once the exception, is now the rule. So when she sings “I’m just trying to work out how to be like myself,” it sounds as much a mission statement as it is a defensive plea for privacy. The good thing is that she seems like she’s getting there — this is musically stronger than “No Strings,” for a start, with a rock-solid parping synth lead holding the woozy melodies in place.
[6]
Alfred Soto: She could have titled it “Self-Control” and still garnered a clever thematic and allusive triumph: therapyspeak over Laura Branigan synth clatter.
[7]
Jer Fairall: Sincere enough in its delivery that Howl’s empathy for her subject is never in doubt, but her colourless vocals, a bit like Lily Allen trying to be Adele, are a serious limitation, and despite that fantastic bit in the latter half of the chorus where the vocal melody acts as a crafty approximation of the character’s downward spiral, Howl does not yet possess the weight as a performer to pull off something as admirably ambitious as this.
[5]
Anthony Easton: Potentially interesting, but it still seems only half-formed. Her archetypes could use expanding or some more detail.
[5]
Katherine St Asaph: Glimmers with all the effervescence buzz can buy, which in 2013 is a lot; between the measured vocal and hedged phrasings, you never get the sense Chlöe was ever on the wrong side of any rumors. (“She may not be entirely straight,” say, which almost provides its own “bless her heart”; or “I’m just trying to work out how to be like myself,” which is more like a Girls parody than anything any of these kids would actually say in their defense.) After all, I still find “Betty Woz Gone” kinder than “The A-Team.”
[6]
Scott Mildenhall: Catchy, but tainted by its feeble attempt at didacticism. It is in no way groundbreaking to talk about teenage pregnancy, drug use or – Heaven forfend – “ambiguous” sexuality. This attempt to do so just sounds like a scattering of sketchy reference points cribbed from half-watching an episode of Shameless, or maybe even a video sent to schools to show in PSHE lessons, given it’s PG-ratedness. It’s like an Ed Sheeran parody. Maybe, in mitigation, there’s only so much you can do in three minutes, but surely more’s possible than just going “LOOK! Not everything is lovely! Do! You! See!” Unless, that is, like Ed Sheeran, Devlin, Example and Gary Barlow’s All-Star Band, you don’t actually have anything to say.
[5]