NERINA PALLOT KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT SHE'S DOING ON ALBUM NO. 7
When Nerina Pallot’s publicist sent me a copy of her latest album I Don’t Know What I’m Doing, I did what most of us do on the receiving end of these things and ignored it. After a nudge, I fired up the SoundCloud press link and put it on in the background, playing it through my computer speakers - a crime against Nerina’s brand of grown up pop - but par for the course these days.
On that first listen, I knew the record was good. Even through computer speakers, those songs were undeniably strong melodies and with a variety of styles that had me intrigued. I had a feeling the record deserved a proper listen, but those first few plays were enough to get Nerina on for a chat on The Art of Longevity podcast. She’s had a fascinating and somewhat classic industry career for a female singer-songwriter i.e. built up by ‘the industry machine’ and then brutally ignored by that same monstrous beast.
As this 7th album finally arrives on vinyl (in all its Autumnal splendour!) it is worthy of a short assessment. When an album like I Don’t Know What I’m Doing is put out into the world, the past is the past and those classic industry markers of success - chart positions, streaming counts and such - well, they don’t matter that much. The album is a modern classic and it will remain quietly so, no matter what. As far as a relative achievement, Nerina can count the album as among her best work to date (it’s certainly my own favourite as a recently converted fan).
I Don’t Know What I’m Doing is a post-pandemic record for sure. The release blurb on the record describes it as “filled with memories of childhood, strange tales of fate and coincidence, and beautifully realised reflections of self. It's about making mistakes, learning from them, and celebrating life for as long as we have breath in our bodies”. Seems like as good a sentiment for an album of real songs as any these days.
Nerina cannot be faulted on honesty. It's a deceptively honest record (if that’s possible), because beneath the MOR stylings of the musical avenues tread here, this is brave heart-on-sleeve songwriting that takes plenty of risks. Take the title track, a bare acoustic guitar accompaniment to a confession of what life is like when you’ll never quite be good enough, even by your own standards (“the no fucking clue club is where you belong)…
“Not like those people who got it all planned
With their world domination and personal brands”...
…meanwhile this song’s protagonist is achieving a peak for the day just by finding something clean to wear. In hearing the song you can just picture Nerina doubting her existence when compared to those peacocking go-getters on social media, while she potters around her house in search of another song. The irony is that when the songs come out so fully formed, she is achieving so much more than all the show-offs out there in the content abyss.
It’s just one example of a gentle humour that plays a cameo role throughout the album and is the kind of lyrical playfulness that Neil Hannon wouldn’t have minded coming up with.
Musically speaking, it’s a real magpie of an album. ‘Alice At The Beach’ is faux reggae, all slinky rhythms and laid-back island feel. It’s bright and breezy and as such it makes perfect sense that this song was written before the others, the only one made before the pandemic bared its ugly teeth and changed the mood. Meanwhile ‘Master Builder‘ is an ode to Stevie Wonder (and specifically, Mistra Know It All if we’re honest here). 'Mama', is dedicated to Nerina’s mother and is heavily influenced by her mother's favourite artist, the British icon Elkie Brooks. ‘Only The Old Songs’ is a letter to Elton John, basically.
Throughout, the 70s looms large - the album is awash in 70s style keyboards. Particularly outstanding is the opening track on side two of the vinyl format, ‘The Way We Are’ - a slice of sunny, platinum grade yacht rock, complete with “Doobie Brothers bounce” piano (“a two-chord jam over wonky bass”) stacked harmonies and a cracking retro solo played on CP70 electric piano. The humour is back in the lyrics here too, the song's opening couplet “in the middle of a breakdown, my 27th breakdown, I began to see the light” a suitably knowing kick off to a feel good tune. If only daytime radio would cotton onto it. The song is one of those sure fire hits had it been released 15 years ago when Nerina’s work was noticed more. Oh well. I hope Todd Rundgren gets to hear it.
What comes through much more on vinyl (or indeed if you stream the album through headphones) is the sheer quality of the musicianship, production and attention to detail. Nerina is a skilled and meticulous self-producer, but her band is of real pedigree - Michael Kiwanuka’s touring band of Lewis Wright (drums), Alex Bonfanti (bass) and Carlos Garcia on guitars.
Nerina also makes most of the vinyl format in the sleeve notes, which not only contain the song lyrics but a short vignette by Nerina on how each song came about. More artists should do this for their vinyl versions - it’s such a pleasure for the fan and a real value-add - so much more effective ‘in print’ than scrolling on your iPhone. This vinyl version also includes a bonus track, the album closer ‘Chanson’, a very nice addition and once again, a clever idea to add value for fans wanting to own a copy.
At her recent, sublimely intimate London live show at Lafayette, Nerina played the majority of the new album, interspersed with a few classics from her catalogue. More than once, she made a joke about “the new stuff being hard for you I know” and “especially if you came along to hear the war song”. But in fact, the new songs went down a storm. Absolutely noone and certainly not the hard core fans that made up the vast majority of the audience, could ever feel their patience was being tested in any way. Indeed the only downside was that we would have happily stayed and listened all night.
During the latter part of the show, Nerina told an anecdote about Elton John playing a song from the album on his Apple Music Beats 1 radio show. But it wasn’t the right song (i.e. it wasn’t ‘Only The Old Songs’ which Elton would have recognised as Nerina drinking straight from his cup). This left her feeling conflicted - grateful of course, but strangely disappointed at the same time. It sums up Nerina Pallot, the perfectionist - always searching for better, always striving to make the masterpiece (she has said she wants to make her own equivalent of Kate Bush’s Hounds Of Love before she reaches 70! The truth is, with the ironically titled I Don’t Know What I’m Doing, she’s so damn close.