COMING OUT STRONG
Lil Nas X’s debut album ‘Montero’ is bursting with technicolour heart, writes Helen Brown. Plus, differing statements from Lindsey Buckingham and Enrique Iglesias
★★★★★
“You’s a meme, you’s a joke, been a gimmick from the go…” raps Lil Nas X, on a fabulous debut that directly addresses the critics
who wrote him off as a one-hit wonder. To give the doubters their due, the quirky-camp country trap of “Old Town Road” (2019) had all the earwormy ingredients of a one-off. Made with a beat bought online for $30 in a $20-an-hour studio and later accessorised with achy-breaky embellishments from Billy Ray Cyrus, it became the longest-leading No 1 single in the Billboard Chart’s Hot 100 history. It was streamed over a billion times and was guaranteed to fill the dance floor at every primary school disco. It had kids cantering in circles, whipping the flanks of imaginary stallions and chanting, “Can’t nobody tell me nothin’” at parents and teachers, until we wanted to throttle them with the toggles of their adorable little stetsons.
But on his recent, parping, brass-backed single “Industry Baby”, Lil Nas X reassured fans: “I told you long ago, on the road/ I got what they waitin’ for…” Now, he boldly delivers it. Over Montero’s 15 tracks, he pulls together as many bright, witty and varied textures as his own, headline-grabbing wardrobe. There’s Latin, rock and acoustic guitar, moody indie moments, yearning concert-hall violin, sidewalk brass and all manner of keyboards (including some jazzy contributions from Elton John). Lil Nas scrolls gleefully through it all, confidently mashing genres. Miley Cyrus pops in to add her raspy ballast to “Am I Dreaming”, while rapper Doja Cat spit-croons over the slick synth hook of “Scoop”.
What punches through it all is Lil Nas’s energised and emotional expression of his queer identity. It’s joyous to hear the 20-yearold southerner (who grew up believing he’d have to spend his whole life in the closet) bouncing off the beats to proclaim: “I’m a pop n***a like Bieber, ha/ I don’t fuck bitches, I’m queer, ha.”
The album opens on the flamenco-inflected strum and handclaps of the bouncy “Call Me By Your Name”, then plunges into the low-riding R&B of “Dead Right Now”. There’s some breezy strumming on “What I Want” ahead of the addictive melodies on “One of Me”, where Lil Nas deals with industry expectations. As Elton John hits the keys, you can hear the hurt in the younger artist’s voice. In many of these songs he uses instrumental motifs to signify different emotional states.
Staccato brass adds a jubilant tone to “Dolla Sign Slime”, while a Spanish guitar contributes a sunset sorrow to the confessions of loneliness flowing through “Tales of Dominica”. On the indietinged “Sun Goes Down”, he acknowledges his past suicidal thoughts and deals with the racist and homophobic culture that left him “always thinkin’, ‘Why my lips so big?/ Was I too dark?/ Can they sense my fears?’” Later he reveals: “These gay thoughts would always haunt me/ I prayed God would take it from me.” Against the brushed electric guitar of “Void”, he reaches for a falsetto as he admits to weeping through the night.
Close your eyes as you listen to Montero and you can almost feel the rainbow confetti falling from the ceiling and sticking to your tears. This album isn’t the creation of a gimmick-spinner. It’s an album bursting with technicolour heart. Now, where did I hide that disco-stetson?
Lindsey Buckingham – Lindsey Buckingham ★★★☆☆
It’s been a tumultuous few years for Lindsey Buckingham. After being fired from Fleetwood Mac in 2018, he had to undergo lifesaving, open-heart surgery in 2019 and then the pandemic hit. Buckingham called it “a trifecta of events that were completely off the charts” – which is, perhaps, putting it mildly. Despite his
troubles, Buckingham’s seventh studio album is far from a dour, downbeat affair. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.
Take early album track, “On The Wrong Side”. While it seems to address his acrimonious break-up with the band –“I’m outta pity,”he repeatedly croons – it’s an upbeat, stripped-back pop song which culminates in one of Buckingham’s signature, stomping electric guitar solos – and shows Fleetwood Mac just what they’re missing.
Drum machine led “Swan Song” is the album’s most inventive and surprising song, proving that the creator of “Tusk” has still got his knack for innovation and creating a daring pop hook.
While the weakest tracks here tend to veer into self-pity – the reflective, gentle and Searchers-like “Time” is a good example when Buckingham sings, “Some folks treat me mean”, these moments are usually short-lived. Buckingham is better when looking ahead, with purpose, as on the harmonious “Power Down”.
The self-title here feels like a statement of intent and with a strong solo offering like this, it may well make Fleetwood Mac think again. Elizabeth Aubrey
Is Enrique Iglesias retiring? From the title of his new album, it sounds like it. Even more so when you listen to the music itself, which gives the impression that the Latin pop king is ready and willing to give up his throne.
Iglesias, the son of Spanish singer Julio Iglesias, was one of the dominant Latin pop crossovers of the Noughties; by the end of the decade, he was churning out a string of club-friendly bangers including “I Like It” with Pitbull, and “Tonight (I’m F**kin’ You)” with Ludacris. And before Daddy Yankee came along with “Despacito” in 2017, Iglesias scored a major Spanish-language hit in the US with the yearning “Bailando”.
Now, though, it seems the 46-year-old is worn out. Final Vol 1 is a surprisingly unsexy offering from the artist who once turned fans to jelly with brooding numbers such as 2001’s “Hero”. The English-language “Chasing the Sun” is a bland auto-tune fest that sounds like one of the so-so tracks by Joe Jonas’s pop band, DNCE. “I’m feeling kinda empty… I’m a bit depleted,” he sings on “Unwell” and, yes, right now he’s emulating Adam Levine’s brand of soulless pop.
Things pick up a tiny bit at the halfway point. You have the sultry “Me Pase”, with its reggaeton beat and gorgeous licks of Spanish guitar, and the assertive “Subeme La Radio”. But then there’s the ludicrous “El Bano”, which, while catchy, translates to a horny Iglesias talking about how his lover can “make [him] so hard”, he wants to go to the bathroom to hook up. It’s a shame, but Final Vol 1 positions Iglesias more as court jester than the Latin king he once was. Roisin O’Connor
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