Before we get further, can we stop to discuss this ridiculous album sleeve for Feline? Ella Eyre, straddling a pillow on an opulent bed, while a lion rests on the floor with that vacant look in his eyes that probably wishes he went the way of Cecil.
Then again, overblown has always been Eyre’s style. Our problem with her so far is that her output has largely sounded quite similar: that piano & strings preface to a Rudimental-esque D&B breakdown, that powerhouse chorus. It’s alright the first time, but after Together, If I Go, Always, Good Times… well, you get the idea. Practically the entire first half of the album has beats as predictable as a triumph-over-adversity VT on a talent show.
Which is a shame, really, given how likeable Ella Eyre seems to be and how much charisma she really does have in her raspy old voicebox (not so much the hair – Jill from Lion Babe seems to be marketing that vibe with a better sound). Like a fellow new pop tip, Eyre is stuck in a very of-the-moment rut, a moment that seems to actually have run its course in the duration of this album. For a debut, she puts in a fair performance on Feline; for longevity, she needs to make us feel more Thundercat than Grumpy Cat. And maybe not repeat a variation on the same song 14 times.
Feline by Ella Eyre can be ordered here.