★★★★★ Beyoncé worked with so many people on ‘Lemonade’, her sixth album which she dropped in late April with an accompanying short fi lm, that its credits run to 3,105 words. It’s a testament to her star power that none of her collaborators blabbed before the surprise album release – Bey’s second in a row after her 2013 self-titled LP. But it’s also a testament to her star quality that despite the many, many cooks in this kitchen, ‘Lemonade’ feels like an album only Beyoncé could make. ‘Lemonade’ is officially billed as ‘a conceptual project based on every woman’s journey of self knowledge and healing’, but the narrative is really one of marital infi delity. ‘How did it come down to this? Going through your call list,’ she sings on the deceptively breezy reggae bounce of ‘Hold Up’, before issuing what sounds like an ultimatum on the brilliant, Jack White-assisted rock stomper ‘Don’t Hurt Yourself’: ‘If you try this shit again / You gon’ lose your wife.’ The electro blips of ‘Sorry’ feature another killer couplet: ‘He only want me when I’m not there / He better call Becky with the good hair.’ Beyoncé stops short of singing ‘My sister Solange appeared to attack you in a lift after the Met Gala in 2014’, but this is still startling stuff which must be tough for Jay Z (who appears in the short film) to listen to. As the story progresses from rage to reconciliation, ‘Lemonade’ continues to thrill musically. Bey teams with The Weeknd for ‘6 Inch’, a kind of strip club update of
It's been nigh on a year since the foremost cultural export of Mullumbimby, a town in Australia, promised she was 'work, work, work, work, working on my shit'. The refrain (from Iggy Azalea's breakout hit 'Work') hints at how a rapper with such an apparent demographic handicap - white, female, Antipodean - has managed to earn props from rap royalty like Nas while racking up YouTube views. Whether New York or New South Wales, hip hop loves a hustler.
But has all that graft paid off on her major label debut? No doubt Azalea plays to her substantive strengths, penning tracks that rigidly comply to one of three categories: underdog triumphalism ('Impossible is Nothing',); girl power defiance ('Goddess', 'Fuck Love'); and boy-baiting drama ('New Bitch' and 'Black Widow' featuring Rita Ora).
More striking is her stylistic growth. Where mixtape Azalea crowded the beat, tripping over her (let's be honest) cartoonish accent, album Azalea has learned to let it breathe. With production this melodic, flitting from pathos-drenched strings to bouncy club synths, the newly composed sound of Azalea is sure to resonate around teenagers' bedrooms this summer.
It might not permeate beyond, though. 'The New Classic' knows its audience so well that it largely alienates those outside it. To grown-up ears, it sounds like a confection. This is a good album. But classic? For that, Iggy will still have to work harder.