More Leftovers, This Time a Duffy Curry - Rockferry Review

Duffy can't half sing, this neo-soul songstress walks the line between Dusty and Amy with her soulful sixties sound and brassy, powerful vocals, capable of packing a punch as well as sweetly serenading. Thing is, she's not terribly exciting, not that she has to be, but this is an era where sisters are doing it for themselves from Queen of MySpace Lily and Queen of Rehab Amy to Cockney Angel-voiced Adele and Po-faced, three-chord botherer Nash bashing boyfriends and promoting oral hygiene. Stood next to her peers Duffy comes up short in the personality stakes. She doesn't feel terribly original, sure she's a vocally accomplished throwback with a fantastic first single but that can't sustain the public's interest. Her debut album, Rockferry, is perfectly lovely, often excellent and those who enjoy anything they've heard of the Welsh songstress thus far should take it as a safe bet that they'll enjoy listening to this in their car. It's just a bit vanilla, classy, simple, elegant, enjoyable but lacking in personality or variety. This doesn't cripple the album's success, what it sets out to do, it succeeds at but with such allusions to a great talent here there should be more.

The album makes a strong first impression with its title track which begins with an intro befitting of a Bond theme before slinking through a thumping beat to an anthemic finale of guitar strings and Duffy's impressive set of pipes being unleashed over a ferocious middle-eight. Elsewhere it's the singles that serve as the main highlights here. The simple, elegant and poignant Warwick Avenue is a vintage, soppy love ballad and it's velvety, heartfelt vocal, simple but effective instrumentation and gradual build-up. Noir-edged piano ballad Stepping Stone seems to ask you to drape yourself across a grand piano in a sequin dress with it's vintage soul vibe and Duffy's vocal restraint is much appreciated as this classy tune doesn't need much embellishment to make an impact. And my oh my, Mercy's very bloody good isn't it? "Hit the beat and take it to the verse now," she purrs before all hell breaks loose, this is a sublime retro-pop groove that demands a boogie 'round the wireless. A similar vibe can be found on Delayed Devotion and I'm Scared albeit with less vocal bombast. Duffy does Dusty in Syrup and Honey which begs to be played on a Wherletzer. This is a vocal showcase set to simple strings and just when you think it's about to explode, it doesn't and the song is all the better for it. It pauses for breath before jamming to a fade as Ms. Duffy ad-libs us out and Hanging on too Long packs a punch in the chorus.

Beyond that there's pleasant mediocrity in the form of Serious, a soft and dreamy number that plinks and twinkles pleasingly enough but doesn't really evoke much of a reaction beyond that. Unfortunately it's overlong and Duffy's vocals are almost intrusive, their strength harsh what should be mellow. Things almost come full circle when Distant Dreamer employs a similar wall-of-sound technique that Rockferry kicked things off with but set to a more mellow, dreamy vocal. It's a perfect closer, soft enough to bid adieu to the listener but packing enough of a punch to make a memorable and moreish finale. One might want to play Mercy again as an encore, because all said and done, that's still the best track on here. And therein lies the flaw, if you can call it that, of Duffy's debut. It's perfectly polished, well-produced, mostly vocally impressive and oozing a sophistication with a touch of retro class. But it never takes you anywhere beyond the obvious. This album doesn't represent the next big thing in music, it represents potential and it's where Duffy will take her sound next that intrigues more than the album itself. There's nothing to dislike per se except the absence of something to really love that's specific to Duffy herself.