us before the world stopped, Mabel McVey was Britain’s most popular new pop star. In February 2020 she opened the BRIT Awards ceremony featuring Don’t Call Me Up, the biggest of her nine platinum-selling singles, a brutal firing of an ex who spent four months in the top 40 in 2019. Then she won the British Female Solo Artist award.
Despite an unorthodox upbringing as the youngest child of Swedish star Neneh Cherry and the producer Cameron McVeyBorn in Spain and raised between London and Stockholm, she triumphed as a woman who voiced the glamorous young woman’s concerns about the city. Folk songs about your self-worth almost outweighed expressions of disappointment from several men, as did the reassurance that your anxiety is normal and that everything will be fine.
She began the process of following up on her successful debut High Expectations in very different circumstances: she moved back in with her parents, read, and took a few necessary deep breaths. But the result is much the same: big, confident pop songs that express her success and desirability in myriad ways, while brushing aside romantic disappointments to return to the center of the dance floor.
This is kind of a concept album, as the songs are recorded to tell the story of a night out. She gears up for Let Them Know, which sounds time-consuming: “Nails shine like Christmas / Heels on, 6″ / Waist cinched, Mugler fit.” Later, on Good Luck and Take Your Name, a meeting with an ex makes the party mood falter, but the song Crying on the Dancefloor is titled to show how this night will not end: “No drama in the bathroom, not tonight / That would be so typical, yeah / Know what you’re worth, you deserve / Every star in the sky.”
So much for the H&M changing rooms. The production is classy, with strings sweeping through the house beats on Let Love Go and Animal, and the melodies as catchy as you’d expect from a collaborative backroom team of seasoned pop writers such as MNEK, Stargate and Steve Mac. But there’s not enough that’s typical of her, especially when Overthinking sounds way too much like the ’80s gloss from The Weeknd’s mega-hit Blinding Lights.
The public doesn’t seem to have any connection either – five singles so far haven’t come close to her early chart success. That may change now that the sun is shining. These songs are fun for a summer flirt, but aren’t worth a long-term relationship.
(Polydor)