Beth Ditto - Fake Sugar
I’m going to throw my hands up and admit that, apart from swooning at picture of her and her wife on their wedding day, I have not caught up with Beth Ditto since Standing In The Way of Control brought her into the mainstream back in ’oh six with her former band The Gossip (man, they were cool right?). In my head their brand of fat-queer-garage-punk belongs so strongly to those sweet days (remember indie? remember TOTP? remember flicking through the pages of NME?) I can’t imagine how Ditto conceptualizes herself in the harsh, bitter, digital reality of 2017: Fake Sugar, due out on June 16th, is about to let me know.
And dude, I hate to say it; I’m not sure I dig it. Okay, the first three songs got me good: think Grimes, Friends, The Knife, The XX. The title track is a winner imh(umble)o, and at this point of the album I am 100% for the modern day Beth Ditto (hell, I’m sure I will always be): she’s transcended punk queen and become an ethereal synth pop being, floating above the moody basslines, feathers on the hi hat, halo made of disco balls. It’s beautiful, but as all beautiful things, it doesn’t last. As the album continues I can feel myself losing interest. Have you heard that blog which just records songs playing from in another room (if you haven’t, it’s great, check it out)? Well that’s what I feel I’m listening to – it leaves me strangely lonely, confused and underwhelmed. It feels sacrilegious to say it, but here I go: this Ain't My Jam. I’m sorry Mother Ditz. I will always love you.
4/10
