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12/03/2008 DUFFY: Rockferry So how do you feel about Welsh babes? There’s Catherine Zeta Jones, of course, and, er, Charlotte Church and that flirty Miss Wales from the last UK series of Big Brother. One of my boyband exes had a thing about Cerys Matthews and I know a couple of guys who never stop lusting after that weather girl Sian something or other. Oh and Kathy Lloyd’s still pretty hot and there’s a little scorching currently starring in UK TV series Torchwood called Eve Myles.In the general course of babe history, though, it’s fair to say Wales hasn’t been blessed (cue a volley of outraged messages from over the Severn Bridge proving me wrong). That could all be changing judging by the hype that’s already built up around 23-year-old Aimee Anne Duffy or, for the purposes of her singing career, just plain ol’ Duffy. To some she’s the new Amy Winehouse (without the exploding baggage, obviously, even if her Christian name is almost the same) and to others she’s the reincarnation of Dusty Springfield. Despite the demons drawn to both, in purely artistic terms there could scarcely be two more commendable reference points and it’s quite a build-up for the curvy blonde to live up to. She’s already had a nice bit fat juicy hit with the 60s soundalike Mercy and with ex-Suede guitarist and sometime cult figure Bernard Butler twiddling the knobs here, the mood of glammed up retro with dirty roots is mirrored throughout the rest of the album. Probably – if truth be told – a little too much for its own good. Although she’s unquestionably ferociously talented and blessed with a voice that at its best make her sound like a 40-year-old black singer from the Deep South, it’s still hard to escape the feeling that the music is just a little too knowing and preconceived to be entirely convincing. It’s fun and God knows we all like a bit of fun (I know I do, babeluvers) but given all the next-big-thing predictions we read about her at the turn of the year the expectation was of something that would send us all skittling against the wall in wonder. It doesn’t do that. You sit listening, admiring her voice, wondering why it doesn’t kick you in the solar plexus the way it should do. She’s no Aretha or Mary J Blige, that’s for sure, and she’s no Dusty Springfield or Amy Winehouse either. Or Norah Jones or Corinne Bailey Rae, all of whom her champions have compared her to. She’s not even Leona Lewis. Which is a shame. One day maybe she will be. But this sounds just too expensive and contrived to move the soul. But she does have fabulous lips. Buy Online | ||
