I’ll admit it; most days I am not the brightest ray of sunshine. I am not puppies and rainbows. I am not a snuggle bunny. Last week I wrote about a hip-hop crew that gets audiences screaming, “kill people, burn shit, fuck school.” I am a morose man in his mid twenties who thinks about my own demise way too much. So sometimes, believe it or not, I am in need of a pick me up. I touch a lot on folk, hip hop, and rock here at Enter The Shell, but one thing I don’t think I’ve covered once since writing for this site, is pop music. Sure many will call the genre shallow, even boring. Pop is synonymous with fluff, which makes sense because of how often Artist last for less than ten minutes. But pop music serves a purpose. Pop is that movie we throw on when we are sick. It can be forever familiar and comforting. Some do it much better than others. Even in my curmudgeony state, I can recognize that. Justin Timberlake can bring it. They guy has a talent and charisma that are unmatched. Lady Gaga, despite the constant change of costumes, has a real skill in constructing a catchy ass song. Even Katy Perry, in all her of her DD glory, has the ability to engage an audience and force them to have fun.
Side Note:
I was on a road trip to Napa Valley from LA once. I didn’t have any CDs in my car and was forced to listen to terrestrial radio for the entire eight-hour drive. I heard Katy Perry’s Firework eleven times. If you thought by that sixth time around I wasn’t belting out every single word, you’d be wrong. I’m pretty sure the whole thing might be about blowjobs.
Another quick Katy Perry story. Two of my friends (both bearded monotoned straight dudes) went to the Katy Perry show at the Staples center this past year. They had VIP passes, the works. Their review: “Actually dude, it was really dope.” These are two guys who spend most of their days referencing Cam’ron and Brotha Lynch lyrics, yet they were still sucked in to the spectacle that is a Katy Perry show.
But this article isn’t about Justin Timberlake, Lady GaGa, or Katy Perry. This week we are talking one of my favorite guilty pleasures. This week Artist of the Week: Lily Allen.
Lily Allen is the daughter of successful actor/ comedian Keith Allen and film producer Alison Olsen. Her parents divorced when she was three years old and so began the trying childhood of Lily. Moving constantly, she attended thirteen different schools growing up, never making any long-term friends. So she sought solace is writing songs.
At the age of fifteen Allen dropped out of school for good, with aspirations of being a florist, but music was forever her true passion. Out of school and out of work, Lily did what any British kid does when they are out of cash; she moved to Ibiza, Spain. There she found work at a record store. Where she met A&R man George Lamb who found himself charmed by her attitude, good looks, and song writing ability.
Two things:
1. This would never happen if the genders were reversed. No broke dude has ever shipped off to an exotic locale to start work in a record store, only to have their musical talents discovered by a WOMAN who loves their spunky attitude and then signs on to manage them. That doesn’t happen for dudes. Ever. There is more to this story and I’m pretty sure it’s this: he was trying to fuck her. Sex is the motivation that drives moves like that.
2. I don’t get how that works. In America, when you are out of work and broke, that’s what you are, you’re out of work and broke. You can’t go jet setting to some renowned vacation spot, where maybe you’ll pick up work at a used record shop. Although, in reality Ibiza is only 1,300 miles from London, so I guess it’s the equivalent of jaunting up from LA to Portland for the weekend. Sure Portland is great but Ibiza, it is not. A word to the wise for those Euro kids out there. If you happen across some unemployed American cats, leave out how you had it so rough you were forced to a lavish beach community to pick up work at a record store. Americans will not be able to relate.
Back to Lily Allen
Her manager finagled some dough for her to record an album. Unhappy with the pace of her own progress, Allen decided to release a few demo tracks through the formal social networking giant Myspace. I tried to set up a Myspace once. I got bored with it in about ten minutes and never looked at it again. I think it might even still be up because I’m not sure how to delete it.
Yup. There it is. You can see that I was really dedicated to it.
Unlike myself, Lily Allen was a hit from the get go. I attribute that with her ability to figure out how to post pictures and songs. Her song, LDN, garnered tens of thousands of streams in the first few weeks (to date her songs have been played over 25 million times on Myspace). Here is Lily doing LDN on The Jonathan Ross Show
And here is the poppier version that kicked off her success. It definitely has that Euro feel in the backing beat. I’m a fan of the DIY video. I must say; she’s pretty damn cute riding around on the bike.
Her success on Myspace forced national media, like NME and PopJustice, to take notice. The Lily hit pay dirt when DJ Jo Whiley played LDN on BBC Radio One. It was then released as a limited edition vinyl in 2006. Not soon after Allen followed with another hit single Smile.
Her songs became international hits in the U.K., Spain, France, Poland, and New Zealand. Allen’s first full length Alright, Still came out in July of 2006 featuring both of these singles and a collection of other fun, down right catchy songs. The record blends world music, hip-hop, electro, and piano into a great mix of fun. The album is full of danceable yet poignant songs about the life of a young girl in London. Her lyrics are filled with English slang and comically insightful. Most importantly, her choruses are near impossible to get out of your head. I mean that in a good way. Friday Night is one of my favorite tracks. The ominous backing track mixed with Allen’s sweet voice singing about her night at the clubs is irresistible.
After the release of her first album, Allen became a darling for the U.K. tabloids. 
She appeared daily as she refused to let her newfound fame alter her lifestyle in any way. She spoke with the The New Yorker about her interactions with said tabloids and paparazzi in 2009, which you can read here.
She addressed these issues and more in her second studio release It’s Not Me, It’s You from 2009 which featured what many consider to be her best song, The Fear.
She’s a pop star that delightfully curses like a true Londoner on this track. She also might be the one girl I know that can say, “fuck loads,” and still sound classy as hell. The instrumentation is unlike anything in American mainstream pop. Why can’t we do this here? It’s god damned great. The album also features several soulful slower tracks that really show of Allen’s ability as a singer. My favorite of those is the cabaret-esque He Wasn’t There. The stop go tinkling of the piano reminds me of something you might hear in an old school vaudeville act. It’s delightful
It’s Not Me, It’s You was Allen’s last studio release. Not to say the lady hasn’t been busy. She started a fashion line and vintage clothing store with her sister, got married, and had a kid. She had seemingly retired from music altogether. That was until this past June when she announced that she would be going back into the studio to record new material under the moniker Lily Rose Cooper. Not long after that the entire plan was scraped when she became pregnant for the second time.
I really hope this isn’t the last we hear from Lily. She has a talent and attitude that is necessary for the pop music scene. Her absence leaves the genre a little too sugary sweet for my liking. Get out there. Find her stuff. Next thing you know you’ll be singing it at your office having co-workers wonder why you keep talking to yourself about your life as a trend setting Londonista. I think I just invented a word right there. Sweet.
Big Hugs,
Kelly
 LINKS
http://www.lilyallenmusic.com/
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http://www.facebook.com/
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http://www.myspace.com/