Lily Allen

It’s Not Me, It’s You
(EMI/Parlophone)

This is gonna sound a lot worse than it is, but Lily Allen has more than a passing fascination with Britney Spears. The snarky British singer got herself in a bit of hot water when her unauthorized cover of the Spears hit “Womanizer” made the rounds all over cyberspace, and she’s since made it clear that the homage is in no way meant to be taken ironically. “Now some of you may be wondering why I covered ‘Womanizer,’” she shares on her blog. “Simple really. I love Britney and I love the song.”

Plus, Allen’s second album, It’s Not Me, It’s You, is full of bubbling synths and tinny drum machines that wouldn’t sound out of place on a Spears record. A significant departure from her 2007 debut, Alright, Still—which favored a summer-road-trip-ready mix of ska and lite hip-hop—It’s Not Me’s production is at odds with the artist’s wink-and-a-middle-finger personality. Fusing shimmering dance-pop beats with Allen’s ever-so charming wit and irreverence, the album is an oddly refreshing treat.

It opens with a one-two punch that defines why Allen is better than your average feel-good pop craftsman. The opener, “Everyone’s At It,” is an unabashedly Britney-like club banger, layering synth after synth over a simple piano progression, building up to one kitchen sink chorus after another. But all conventional pop comparisons end there, because Allen’s lyrics tackle our “medicate first, ask questions later” culture:

“Why can’t we all, all just be honest/Admit to ourselves that everyone’s on it?/From grown politicians to young adolescents/Prescribing themselves antidepressants.”

This is followed by “The Fear,” a caustic send-up of fame-hungry celebrities that could very well be about Spears. Over a bed of atmospheric synths, Allen pulls no punches as she delivers the lilting melody. “I want loads of clothes and fuckloads of diamonds,” she sings. “I heard people die while they are trying to find them.”

While these tunes set the tone for It’s Not Me, It’s You, the record is more than just a set of insightful club songs. “Not Fair” might be the catchiest of the bunch, and is possibly the first successful fusion of bluegrass and dance music (no, “Cotton Eye Joe” doesn’t count). “He Wasn’t There” finds Allen singing about a man dispelling all of her doubts over a light showtune shuffle. And “Fuck You” is a curse-laden beat-down of a bigot, featuring bouncy piano chords that could’ve been lifted from Sesame Street.

Not everything works here. “I Could Say” is a weak “I’m better without you” ballad that would probably be a hit for Pink, and “22” is a clichéd character study that just isn’t up to her lyrical standards. All right, Still was a steadier record than this one, boasting one snappy, clever tune after another, but reliability can get boring. It’s Not Me, It’s You captures an artist who’s willing to take risks, and when they pay off, they’re smarter and more invigorating than anything pop music has to offer these days.

—joe sweeney