Song, by Toad

A big thanks to Ed from 17 Seconds for turning me onto this album last year. Why has it taken me so long to review? Well as lovely as it is, there are a couple of flaws that bother me and it has taken a while to reconcile the two.

It seems churlish, given how much there is to genuinely love about Worm Food, to whinge so thoroughly about the very few things that are wrong about it, but that is what I am going to do. Imagine a more pathologically melancholy version of the likes of Kate Nash, but one with genuine ability to write lyrics that are more advanced than an unusually verbose ten-year-old. And one you wouldn’t want to punch.

Partly the accent and partly the slightly flighty delivery mean that Ruth Theodore is liable to get lumped in with that supremely irritating brand of ‘female Mike Skinner with an accent and some pink ribbons’ that are currently infesting our charts, but she genuinely is far, far superior to that lot. There are some gorgeous, gorgeous songs on this album, and some moments of genuinely intelligent, laugh-out-loud wit.

The problem? Well, some of the musical style is that kind of fast-plucked affair that, when overdone as it is on second track Rash, is not just something I find less than enjoyable, I find it really rather annoying. It actively interrupts my enjoyment of the music and makes me look around the room guiltily, hoping no-one actually thinks I like that sort of thing. Ditto one or two of the vocal tics – just too close to Nash-ville. In all honesty, there’s really very, very little of it but its mere presence is enough to make me wince on occasion. So if you’re at all like me in this department, you may wish to approach with caution.

Idiotic personal bug-bears aside, what do we have? An absolutely gorgeous album of superbly written female singer-songwritery. The best bits of this album are truly brilliant. Most of the rest is bloody marvellous. A tiny fraction grates on me. She’s really sharp lyrically, and there are times, particularly when the music is most pregnant with a peculiar sort of tormented, angry sadness, that it really is moving. The other beautifully managed touch is the perfect use of the supporting cast. Accordion, clarinet and strings drift in and out of the songs, but they are kept subtle so as to give them maximum impact, and to keep both the engaging voice and distinctive guitar style of Miss Theodore centre-stage. So as long as you’re prepared to skip a couple of tracks, this should be one of the smartest, sharpest and loveliest albums you’re likely to hear in a long time. It doesn’t sound like I love this album I know, but honestly, large bits of it are absolutely brilliant.

Ruth Theodore – Nothing On
Ruth Theodore – Murray’s Wives

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