Welcome, one and all, to our beautiful new lounge bar. If you’re a man who’s a twat, then come and take a seat. Make sure you listen carefully to our main act this evening, he may teach you a lesson or two about how to be a decent human being, on top of some smooth as hell sonic soundscapes.
On his third album, Miami Memory, Alex Cameron calls out the bullshit of men as directly as he’s ever done, all the while delivering a heartfelt present to his girlfriend, Jemima Kirke, producing not only his best work yet, but one of those albums you see described as “an important message for an entire generation”, or “a crucial sermon to the masses of ignorant twats that plague our dying planet; who make women feel uncomfortable and attack people online, all while they sit at home wanking themselves to sleep” on a massive billboard.
No topic is off-limits: divorce, sex work, Elon Musk, gaslighting, love, death, being a Stepdad. He’s an unorthodox, direct songwriter who doesn’t know the meaning of subtle, using disgustingly visual metaphors to create uncomfortably vivid images. And whilst there’s a whole lot of lovin’ going on across Miami Memory – look no further than the title track – there’s plenty of important messages throughout, as Cameron continues to confront dickhead men and toxic masculinity head-on.
The choruses are bigger this time ’round. Spending time in the studio with Mr. Flowers has paid off, as there’s plenty of home-run hits. But what I really, really, really like about the choruses is that, while there’s more bravado and arrogance in the melodies and a strut in the delivery, the lyrics remain textbook Cameron, and you needn’t look further than ‘Divorce’: “I’ve got friends in Kansas City with a motherfuckin’ Futon Couch”. Imagine the absolute scenes when this gets belted out on tour and a room full of giddy fans are screaming it back… just imagine.
Musically, it’s his best piece of work, combining the electronic clinks and clamps of LP1 with the Springsteen-cum-Killers bravado of LP2; but there’s an increasingly showtime, doo-wop bop sound to the synth-lounge base he’s crafted over the past five years. There’s an oxymoronic relationship between the music and the words, the upbeat positivity radiating from the jolty piano lines and Roy’s saucy sax contrasting the seriousness of many of the song’s topics. But Cameron’s unique way with words and ever-improving vocal delivery acts as the Golden Gate, bridging the gap by delivering these stories with humour and pomp – there are several moments where you’re just sat there giggling, like you’re at the comedy or somethin’ (man, I love when a record does that for you).
Gosh, that was a long one. Anyway, go tell your friends, this is a special one.
Haiku Review
I love the way Al
Makes me fall in love with him
Over and over
Listen to Alex Cameron on Spotify and Apple Music.
