It must be eminently frustrating as an artist to know that the majority of the public are going to have made up their mind about your debut album before they’ve even heard a note of it. The story of Pixie Geldof (or rather, that of her family) is too well-known, too “juicy” for the tabloids, for most people to be able to approach ‘I’m Yours’ without an entrenched set of preconceptions.
But the job of the critic is to do just that, and the overriding feeling when listening to this record is that Pixie Geldof must have listened to a lot of Lana Del Rey over the years. ‘I’m Yours’ has that same semi-conscious, enveloping, ethereal quality that has become LDR’s calling card.
Unfortunately for her, Pixie Geldof doesn’t have the songs of Lana Del Rey. There’s no ‘Video Games’ or ‘Summertime Sadness’ to obviously latch on to, which means that the ten tracks slip by, gossamer-thin and almost unnoticed. It’s not to say that ‘I’m Yours’ is an inherently bad album, it’s just that it lacks that special quality that makes you want to cue it up and listen to it.
You could argue that the biggest crime for an album is being boring and indeed, ‘I’m Yours’ is by no means a memorable record. It’s a perfectly nice listen, but there’s little hint of a spark or anything to grab you by the shoulders. As someone who’s recently taken up free diving, it’s kind of fitting that Pixie Geldof’s album sounds a little like listening to music underwater — but you’d imagine that wasn’t the concept she was aiming for.
Words: Joe Rivers
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