Endlessly

Cool and clever without being contrived, this is sharp, commercially astute pop music that ebbs and flows to the rhythm of a very human pulse. [Jan 2011, p.84]

This time on Endlessly, she smartly taps a producer who wrote hits during that era: Albert Hammond accentuates her smoky, blues-tinged voice and classic Stax style while also bringing out her inner pop star.

Despite these high points, though, Endlessly has some problems. Duffy has said she wrote the songs in a mere three weeks, and it shows.

Ultimately, it's the vocals that carry Endlessly. There's no whitewashing of the singer's eccentricities, which feel more pronounced here--she can be gruffly nasal (the oft-repeated chorus of "Well, Well, Well" never stops sounding like "whale, whale, whale") while remaining wholly beguiling.

Duffy has a uniquely girlish voice, like Joey Lauren Adams doing an impression of a Bond Girl, and her quirks get the best of her during the album's slower moments, where her vibrato sounds forced and faded. When the tempo picks up, though, Endlessly sounds like a proper sophomore effort: mature, confident, and wider in scope than its predecessor.

Artistically, it struggles to cross the velvet rope and push on into greatness. [Jan 2011, p.134]

The rest is a lacklustre recast of her debut that displays about as much personality as Duffy's sweetly banal interviews, all of which suggests her production team are a weakened bunch. Like we said, a remarkable return.

It's rigorously written, but Duffy sounds uncertain, spotlighting the particulars of her voice: the many crannies, the narrow backbone, the decay at the edges, the tentativeness she feels when it's unclear just how much room she has to maneuver.

From the beginning of her career, Duffy's voice alone was clearly not her most potent weapon. Here, she oddly attempts to build an album out of it, not succeeding with anything close to the power and elegance of Rockferry.

Endlessly is like many successors to huge-selling albums: the attempts to break with the artist's trademark sound are tentative, and the result is a record that hedges its bets to only limited success.

Endlessly is unlikely to repeat Rockferry's wildfire success--what could?--lacking as it does instantaneous radio killers. But Duffy's success has always been dependent on both her beautiful voice and her producers' ability to tap into boomer tastes with snippets of 60s pop and nods that drift from Lulu (in Well, Well, Well) to the more modern likes of Madonna.

Though not without its charms, Endlessly is too slight and uneven to impress unconditionally.

Endlessly both reverts to old tricks quickly and constantly strains to update Duffy's appeal, and it's an awkward mix. Her material is frustratingly hit-or-miss either way.

That cat-in-a-swing-coat yowl will still be a divider for many, but it's a snag of human individuality in a smooth, if mixed pack.

Her ballads and neo-disco songs are steeped in lovelorn melodrama, but her bland persona doesn't give the storms life. You're left with saggy stylistic gestures that seem to drag on, endlessly.

Duffy is clearly striving for growth with Endlessly, but outside her comfort zone, she comes up short.

It's when Duffy and co stop trying so hard that the album fairs best. [Jan. 2011, p. 100]

Lyrics are heavy-handed (especially on the Papa Don't Preach rip-off Keeping My Baby), melodies are forgettable, and her voice has little charm or personality. Disappointing.

Duffy's pinched voice warbles into Lulu land pretty frequently, and that squeakiness isn't helped much by the music: five ballads swathed in strings and heartache, five uptempo tracks with a bit more bounce but not much attitude.