Record

Though firmly planted on the dancefloor, Record is for sunshine and joy the way 2008 masterpiece Out of the Woods was for moody rain and 2010 chamber-pop charmer Love and Its Opposite for snug wood paneling. But for all its color and vim, it’s also a brave, grave survey--emotionally if not always factually autobiographical--of Thorn’s relationship to London, her family, and her own heart.

It is the best and most meaningful music Tracey Thorn has made in a long time.

Thorn refuses to see an ending as the end on Record, and the results are wickedly funny and relevant to listeners of all ages.

This third solo album--“nine feminist bangers”, Thorn has quipped, with an immaculately raised eyebrow--finds the singer up against electronic backings, drilling down into complex emotions. And some simpler ones.

Tracey Thorn is a singular talent, and in a career that spans over four decades she’s achieved much. Record though has set a new benchmark.

This clear-eyed view of the past and the care put into the sound make this one of the most rewarding albums Thorn has made in a career full of great records and classic songs. She shows no signs of slowing down on Record; her voice and songs are as impressive and important as ever.

In the wrong hands, Record’s subject matter could have been heavy going, but these songs are graceful, masterful, airy, bubbly and even a lot of fun.

Thorn frames Record's songs within her experiences as a woman and mother, allowing for an immediacy to the music, which traces her first brush with guitar music through to a simple desire to enjoy dancing on a night out. ... Tracey Thorn possesses a lyrical and melodic intuition that shines.

Pleasingly, it’s all done with New Order/Pet Shop Boys-esque synths and beats. Dancing with tears in your eyes is still dancing.

The slightly muted beats across Record suggest the memory of good times, but the joyous flash of self-recognition on Dancefloor shows they are far from over. [Apr 2018, p.95]

Record’s producer Ewan Pearson pushes her back, fruitfully, into an electronic setting. This creates quite a retro, Eighties sound, linear and stratified, with pulsing bass synths and tidy drum machine patterns. But it lends Thorn’s wry, sharp lyrics a welcome sparkle.

For the most part Record strikes a nice balance. Thorn's voice has gotten deeper and huskier with age, but those developments work well to underscore what is newfound confidence, even brashness.

The Everything But the Girl chanteuse tells tales of mid-life angst with the same wry wit she's had in her voice since she was a sullen Brit-punk kid.

Slightly pleased with itself, but record is definitely worth a spin. [Apr 2018, p.35]

Her first album of new material in seven years finds Tracey Thorn in feisty form, bashing out “nine feminist bangers” with a relish reflected in the confident, striding electropop settings of tracks like “Queen” and “Air”.

A punchy, potent return from one of UK music's most distinctive voices. [Apr 2018, p.115]