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: /\ / / \ \/ \ / / / . sH!
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: \/ F A N G \ / : '
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\ / presents \ / .
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: Artist......: Nadine Shah
: Album.......: Kitchen Sink :
: Label.......: Infectious Music .. .:.. .
Genre.......: Indie :
Catnr.......: INFECT574CD .
' Source......: CD ,
; Rip.date....: 2020-06-30
Str.date....: 2020-06-26
Quality.....: 253kbps/44.1kHz/Joint Stereo . :..
.:. Url.........: http://www.nadineshah.co.uk '
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\ / # title time \ /
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1. Club Cougar 4:46
2. Ladies for Babies (Goats for Love) 4:28
3. Buckfast 3:51
4. Dillydally 3:47
5. Trad 5:27
6. Kitchen Sink 3:36
7. Kite 4:52
8. Ukrainian Wine 4:39
9. Wasps Nest 2:22
10. Walk 4:43
11. Prayer Mat 4:20
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\ / ________ Runtime 46:51
,\ /... . . .... .... \ / ' Size 89.74 ______
:\/ ', \ / , \ /
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: Release Notes: \/ , \/ ,
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,: On her fourth album, Nadine Shah unearths hard-luck stories in :,
: all sorts of bleak corners, squaring off with sleazy creeps, :
:' spiteful deadbeats, and neighborhood racists. But while the ':
,: songs have the verisimilitude of the grainy British dramas :,
: they're named for, she isn't interested in the humdrum trappings :
:' of reality. Instead, she colors her songs with vibrant shades, ':
,: drawing out tragicomic absurdities with sly panache. The result :,
: is direct but disorienting, like a grim domestic scene painted :
:' by Matisse. ':
,: :,
: For Shah, it's a concept closer to home than 2017's fraught, :
:' state-of-the-world address Holiday Destination, which took in ':
,: British bigotry, the Syrian refugee crisis, and the "fascist in :,
: the White House." Yet she shifts focus without losing grip of :
:' her unsettling songwriting: these character-driven vignettes ':
,: are rooted in grim realities, pressures, and prejudices, and :,
: although she swaps brooding post-punk for brighter, more lurid :
:' sounds, she still builds her songs for discomfort. Often she ':
,: explores her experiences as a woman in her 30s and the sexist, :,
: ageist drek she and have friends have endured: "Running :
:' gauntlets/Swerving perverts," she drones over skittish ':
,: percussion and swarming-bee synths on "Walk," transforming a :,
: walk down the street into an Escherian obstacle course. :
:' ':
,: Those disconcerting flourishes allow Shah to tease out the :,
: political grit in each personal ordeal, and the best songs land :
:' in some odd hinterland between the surreal melodramas of Bj÷rk ':
,: and the wry commentary of Pulp. The title track's slinky throb :,
: finds Shah, a British Muslim of Norwegian-Pakistani heritage, :
:' clocking dirty looks from xenophobic neighbors. "Gossiping, ':
,: boring bunch of bitches," she fires back, relishing every snarky :,
: syllable with her theatrical Geordie drawl. On "Club Cougar," :
:' she's pestered by a smarmy guy who just knows she's an older ':
,: woman on the prowl; in truth, they're basically the same age and :,
: she finds him repulsive. "All dressed up/ Think I did it for :
:' ya," she sneers, refusing to play along with the track's carnal ':
,: atmosphere of sultry saxophone and animal howls. :,
: :
:' In the wrong hands, that grotty-scenario-meets-lavish-score ':
,: formula could slip into farce, and Shah isn't afraid of mining :,
: black humor from the incongruities. She brings a sensual purr :
:' and lithe guitar to "Ladies for Babies (Goats for Love)," the ':
,: tale of a neglected trophy wife whose husband treats her like :,
: livestock and his farm animals like sweethearts, and calls out a :
:' gaslighting drunk on the swampy strut of "Buckfast." But she ':
,: never prioritizes cheap laughs over gut punches. Restless, eerie :,
: rhythms give "Trad" a dark uneasiness, and synths glower and :
:' swoon as Shah panics she's running out of time to do what ':
,: society expects - get married, have kids - even though she knows :,
: how stifling those expectations are. "Shave my legs/ Freeze my :
:' eggs," she sings, half-mesmerised and half-miserable, in the ':
,: thrall of a dangerous spell. "Will you want me when I am old?" :,
: :
:' Early in her career, Shah was routinely hailed as a mythical ':
,: lovechild of Nick Cave and PJ Harvey, and she holds onto some :,
: some of that gothic grandeur: "Kite," with its haunted chants, :
:' whistles, and twinkles, sounds like one of her old compositions ':
,: broken down into a ghostly western. Increasingly, though, she :,
: sounds less their stylistic disciple than a similarly :
:' charismatic, chameleonic storyteller. On the closing "Prayer ':
,: Mat," she explores the dwindling days of her relationship with :,
: an influential figure - "the pioneer who learned to love abroad" :
:' - the two of them blotting everything out with booze and old ':
,: memories. "We batten down the hatches/ We drink on airport :,
: time," intones Shah over shuddering guitars and electronics. :
:' "Together we write our epitaphs/Whilst dizzy from our wine." ':
,: Like most of Kitchen Sink, it's a report from an altered state, :,
: a true story in a strange hue; real life, but only as Shah could :
:' tell it. ':
: '
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\ / Shout out to all our homies from: \ /
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