Washington
I Believe You Liar
(Universal Music)

Australia. You worry me sometimes.

I've seen this album hailed as 2010's saviour of pop. (This is what happens when you allow fucking radio presenters to moonlight as music critics, incidentally: the bottom line is "will it sound good on drive time?" Critical judgment is thrown to the wind because it has no place on the airwaves.) OK. First point. Pop is doing perfectly well by itself, thank you very much - ask Lady Gaga, Rihanna, Kelis, Katy Perry or the endless galaxy of moneyed, sexed-up stars. It's desirable, pulsating, thriving... and often more musically adventurous than its dull stay-at-home brother, indie music. Second point: why do indie boys always equate pop music with bland?

Now don't get me wrong. I've watched clips of Megan Washington - to all intents and purposes "Washington" herself - and she seems intriguing: lively, good-humoured, rocking the chic school librarian look, possessed of a fine if overly breathless voice, lyrics that doubtless tell of the trauma and enjoyment of growing up in Brisbane as a teen and of being in love and in lust with twenty-something irreverence. There's an extraordinary performance on Spicks And Specks where she does the equivalent of singing the phone book, and reduces a fellow panellist to tears. And I like her choice of costumes when she does dress-up. But the saviour of pop...? Oh come on.

What Megan Washington is, far more obviously, is this year's Katie Noonan, this year's Sarah Blasko. This is music for the mainstream critics who love to harp on about musicianship and songwriting like either of these abilities matter in the production of pop music. Again, don't get me wrong. I like all these artists, to greater or lesser degrees (Washington included): but the production on I Believe You Liar is aimed at alienating no one. It's pure middle-of-the-road indie Shins territory. Megan plays piano. So the piano is brought to the fore. Megan writes slightly quirky lyrics. So the slightly quirky lyrics are brought to the fore. But behind them both is a filled-in, rounded-off production that serves to mask every last imperfection. (Surely part of Washington's appeal?) It could be - and is - the background to a thousand other would-be chart singers.

Take 'The Hardest Part': jaunty, infectious beat and a rolling repetition between the piano and vocals. I bet it's killer, live. The production (nods to the A&R man idea of what Elvis Costello sounds like, which doesn't actually exist) absolutely kills it, digitalised and overblown to buggery. Take 'I Believe You Liar'. Megan is aiming for Kate Bush or (shudder) Tori Amos territory but ends up sounding like Lily Allen acoustic - why are those strings there? WHY ARE THOSE STRINGS THERE? What do they add? Megan Washington has this slightly odd dynamic going on behind her public persona: awkward yet simultaneously confident, enthusiastic. Doesn't she think this song strong enough to be heard without the ornamentation? It is. Again, I bet it's great live.

Australia does worry me sometimes. I mean, everyone loves to think they're mates with the stars and that if someone achieves success it's all 'good on ya mate for getting up there'. Why? Why is there such uniform acceptance of even the blandest of sounds? Sure, the strutting '1997' wouldn't sound out-of-place on Seventies AM radio. Is this really such a plus? Sure, 'Cement' has some cheeky lyrics ("You left your message on the cement") and a fine hook. Sure, 'Rich Kids' is a nicely nasty putdown of Brisbane. But do the songs really have to be radio'd to fuck? I guess so. Without the production, Washington wouldn't have received the radio play, and without the radio play Washington wouldn't have received the adulation. It's a vicious circle.

Nice album title, though.

Everett True

--
Washington - 'Sunday Best'