Lily Allen does best in spring

By Jordan Sargent

Published Jan. 26, 2007

I'm just going to throw this out there at the start: If you like your music to match the seasons, go and downlo-, er, buy Alright, Still. File it away until the sun comes out and wait for the new Bright Eyes album to leak.

Capitol Records, Lily Allen's American record label, fucked up royally by releasing the United Kingdom star's debut album — a record full of rainbow-colored horn blasts and airy melodies — on our shores deep in the throes of winter, in what I assume is a ploy to capitalize on her massive European success.

That success was set into motion by lead single "Smile," which topped the U.K. singles chart in July. The almost as successful, and better, "LDN" then followed and — poof — a star was born. But if that were the whole story, Lily Allen would be just Craig David and I probably wouldn't be writing this review.

Thing is, "Smile" is what some might call a "bitchy" song — the chorus, directed to her ex is: "When I see you cry/ It makes me smile" — thus making Lily one of the most divisive artists in England.

She's already feuded with fellow buzz band The Kooks and music magazine NME, and the theft of her dog was the U.K. tabloid version of the Hope Diamond heist.

Point being, Lily Allen has 10 times as many haters as you and I have friends.

What sucks for them is that Alright, Still is an outstanding debut; it is the album that would play on a loop if there existed a place such as that place in "Happy Gilmore" where Happy's girlfriend runs around in lingerie and the sunshine with endless pitchers of beer.

That's not to say that Alright, Still is utopia — or even utopian in its themes — but rather that with its tales of rejecting scores of guys and crying boyfriends with small penises, it's an album from someone who's finally come out on top.

Allen is a big personality, but if the chorus of the biggest song in America is "look back and watch me smack that," then I can handle her rejecting a guy's advances on "Knock 'Em Out" by telling him that she has "herpes...no, no syphilis."

On "Not Big," she let's the ex know: "Yeah, you really must think you're great/ Let's see how you feel in a couple of weeks/ When I work through all your mates." Just when it seems like all her venom is being spewed at this same guy, she moves on to prissy and pompous girls at clubs on the ominous "Friday Night."

Your enjoyment of Alright, Still will depend on your tolerance for Allen's braggadocio. My threshold is pretty high, which is Lily loses me when the album's latter third takes a turn down memory lane.

The tedious "Littlest Things" recants on every previous song with "dreams of when we just started things," and the truly dopey (no pun intended) "Alfie," which is about her stoner brother, leaves Allen sounding like a nagging big sister.

The best thing about Alright, Still is that Allen takes everyone's soft spot for that one Natasha Bedingfield song, "Genie in a Bottle" and reggae and blaring trumpets and drives a stake right through them with her humor, wit and vitriol.

If Alright, Still sounds a little too gloat-y now, give it a spin or two during spring break.

It'll sound like the preacher's gospel when you know your ex is poring over those Facebook pictures from Cancún.