Imelda May

Life. Love. Flesh. Blood

Dublin’s rockabilly queen decides it’s time to change everything. Good move. Well, that’s a relief: Imelda May drops the 1950s rockabilly shtick and goes natural. Obviously, no one ever disputed the quality of her voice, it’s just that now it’s delivering with no frills, no arch curlicues. The old look – bleached quiff and kitsch dresses – is gone, too. At 42, she looks 20 years younger, singing with clear-eyed honesty and simple emotional heft. It’s all occasioned by a split with husband Darrel Higham: the upshot is a confessional – heartbreak, insight, redemption, honed by production from T Bone Burnett. Honeyed country-soul opener Call Me is a shock: gentle, measured, the microphone up close and May sounding not unlike Randy Crawford. Black Tears could be an undiscovered Patsy Cline gem, and further on, there are elements of Rosemary Clooney and the Shangri-Las. Occasionally things get laboured or dull; still, a powerful new direction.