Ever since its unexpected release around Halloween, West End Girl by Lily Allen has had people talking. Inevitable comparisons to Beyonce’s Lemonade have been made, but for me it’s more akin to Joni Mitchell ‘s Blue or Bjork’s Vulnicura. It hurts, and it seems apposite to close the year with this album as a contrast to the major one that began it- Self Esteem ‘s A Complicated Woman (also brilliant).
People love to gossip about break -up albums. Who did what to whom, and why, and when? Allen has stated some of the album is fictional, some of it true. For me, it succeeds, because it’s raw, honest and unvarnished. Plus, the songs are beautiful. Allen is always best when she shows her humanity.
It’s the reason millions tuned in to the recent series of Celebrity Traitors. We want to see behind the curtain, to unpeel the mask. We need to see that celebs are a bit useless really, like us all: messy, multifaceted and silly. Alan Carr crying at lying to everyone as a Traitor was incredibly, unexpectedly, touching. So too, Lily Allen reminds us of our foibles, and how woundable we all really are.
If I were David Harbour, the ex-husband at the centre of it all, I would tread very carefully now. The album’s themes of toxic behaviour and philandering are effective, because they’re delivered with a velvet glove. And a sexy nun outfit. Hell hath no fury…
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