Kate Nash goes for the obvious

Songwriting isn't a strength on Made of Bricks.

By Kelsey Whipple

Published Dec. 4, 2007

Like her poptart predecessors, Kate Nash was christened a success the nanosecond she jumped the pond. Straight out of her teens, the dewy-eyed maneater in a vintage frock made waves on both sides of the Atlantic with her penchant for dressing like a pinup and swearing like a sailor — all generic sulky songbird, specific cockney rebel. In the time it takes to click "Add to Friends," wry wit coupled with honest-to-god girl power drove her Eliza Doolittle accent and everywoman slanguage up the UK albums chart — all the way up.

The only problem is we're still humming "LDN." Nash has MySpace.com to thank that her stroll onto the scene was easier than that of fellow Londoner Lily Allen, but her heels are heading in the same direction. And while Made of Bricks proves the actress-turned-singer has major second-album potential, much of it goes up in a mushroom cloud of fussy break-up-and-make-up songs. The girl is only 20. How many pieces could her heart possibly be in?

Nash's habit of waxing pathetic takes off in "Foundations," a song built more on hindsight than on any actual insight: "My fingertips are holding onto the cracks in our foundation/And I know that I should let go/But I can't," she speak-sings over bouncy piano. For what it's worth, no one could pull off such an evasive metaphor.

This is the point where her label's decision to rush the record for an early release date begins to show itself in a hot mess of heavy-handed lyrics not easily saved by the rare sarcastic nugget. "You said I must eat so many lemons 'cause I am so bitter/I said I'd rather be with your friends, mate, 'cause they are much fitter." Nash's songwriting would be sensational if it weren't so shortsighted.

She has all her charm in the right place, primarily avoiding cut-and-paste lines to focus on disarmingly honest commentary on modern youth. The only complication is its sloppy execution, found in "Mouthwash" (wait for it) in lines like, "I use mouthwash/Sometimes I floss/I've got a family/Sometimes I drink cups of tea." Keep it in your diary, Kate.

And as for editing, there isn't any. The common denominator between Lily Allen and Kate Nash — may someone smite me for bringing it up again — lies in always flinty, often flirty lyrics from girls who have had a bit too much to think. But where Allen hides hers under layers of coquetry and hip-pop, Nash went for obvious.

On Made of Bricks, when he's not a dickhead ("Dickhead," seriously), he's full of shit ("Shit Song"), kissing someone else ("We Get On") or just plain confusing ("Pumpkin Soup"). And by the way, birds "can shit on your head" ("Birds"). The fumbled production is not as much half-baked as it is undercooked, in a way that no amount of hummable background piano pop can cure. And note to Kate Nash: If you're going to name a song "Shit Song," it should probably be ironic.

Made of Bricks might make you grin, but it won't make you think. We already have a Lily Allen, and whether we want one or not, we've got an Amy Winehouse. Do we need a Kate Nash? That's a tougher one.