No Shame

It’s as raw a record as you’ll hear this year, even if the British singer’s calm tone and heavily programmed production are the picture of pop refinement. Her sweet voice has always been Allen’s not-too-secret ammo, weaponized to take down the fools she didn’t suffer gladly. Hearing her now turn that tart, dulcet dagger of a tongue around on herself makes for a bracing listen.

With No Shame, Allen has eschewed making an Irish exit from her days as a party girl and instead delivered a eulogy that gracefully buries the past while continuing to seek the sunshine of the future.

Throughout the album, Allen’s lyrics remain devastatingly frank. ... No Shame might sound more mellow than her earlier razor-sharp sass, but beneath the surface lies a gloom, one I’m glad Lily lets us see.

It would be a hard listen were it not for the fact that the music is so great: tropical house shot in soft-focus and slow-motion, orchestrated 70s singer-songwriter ballads, every melody and chorus finished to a uniformly high standard.

Sometimes its hard to separate the art from the artist, but Lily Allen has once again drawn upon brutally honest and painfully raw experiences from her own personal life to create an all-encompassing and emotive sonic journey that keeps your finger firmly on the repeat button. Absolutely nothing to be ashamed of here.

It is as if one of the saddest albums you will ever hear is masquerading as a set of party hits. Nevertheless, No Shame should be compulsory listening for every young wannabe who still thinks pop stardom will be a panacea for all their problems.

No Shame is a reminder that this is what Allen does, and she does it very well. [Summer 2018, p.111]

Bold emotional directness supplanting gobby perpetual-teen 'tude on a set of soulful urban pop. [Jul 2018, p.98]

It’s a smart, self-aware and compellingly imperfect record with a pretty unique point of view.

No Shame is a return to form in every sense: a confident, well-produced and deeply personal work.

The somewhat dated soundscape presents the album one relative weakness, but truthfully, sticking to her guns serves Allen and No Shame just fine, with the clear spotlight allowed for her vocals.

Songs about divorce are hard enough, but Allen really gets the tears rolling on "Three", written from the perspective of her children whom she feels she has neglected with her busy touring schedule and life in the spotlight. ... While these sober moments are perhaps the most impactful on the album, Allen connects with her dreamy voice on less heart-wrenching tracks.

No Shame isn't a soundtrack to party. It's music for reflection, and coming from an artist who made snark her specialty, that's a step forward.

No Shame is exactly what it says it is--an album where all is revealed, even the unpleasant parts.

No Shame might sound placid on its surface, but a closer listen reveals that as her sonics have become more gentle, Allen's truth bombs have become even more explosive.

It is an album far less fun than her previous ones, but that’s the point: Allen’s a bit tired of fun, and isn’t afraid to admit that “fun” can sometimes be the source of your troubles.

If Sheezus was Allen at her most ironic, Allen’s new album marks a return to sincerity--and its assessments of motherhood, failing relationships, and infamy are penetrating. Sadly, these potent themes are often diluted by antiseptic production.

Though No Shame ultimately feels more like a transition than a reinvention, it’s good to see Allen coming back for seconds.

She’s not quite there yet, but after a wobble that could have sunk lesser personalities, she’s found a sound that feels authentic again. And that’ll do for now.

It’s the sound and pen of an artist who’s grown up in the public eye rewriting--or reaffirming--her identity. But that honesty sometimes comes at a cost. It’s heavy stuff, that at times feels more like an emotional release than an album she wants people to enjoy. Only with the last few tracks does she hark back to the upbeat, summery pop she’s perhaps best known--and loved--for.

This is a prettier, more heartfelt record than Sheezus, but only a slightly better one.