“Someone who’ll end up as nothing more than an inconsequential blip of music history demands so much of her audience”
Digital Release: October 30, 2011
Physical Release: October 31, 2011
It would be unduly foolish of any fan of popular music to expect much in the way of musical quality to emerge from talent vacuum The X Factor. As far as their alumni – winners and non-winners alike – go, they are weeds among flowers, or other weeds if we consider much of the Top 40’s barren offering. It’s a peculiar thought that much of the exclusivity and ‘integrity’ of being The X Factor winner has been stripped away by countless other drones from the same show often out-selling said winner. Cher Lloyd herself looks set to be an example of an artist stemming from The X Factor’s tree who, without ever mustering the support to manage twelve weeks of a popularity-based showcase of glorified karaoke, has wedged her foot in the door of the pop boardroom, allowing her to score a #1 hit and is now looking set to replicate such a feat (if such is a feat at all these days) with Mike Posner, the man behind ego-anthem ‘Cooler Than Me’, the song that put the plucky little songstress into The X Factor’s live shows.
But after Lloyd re-wrote the rule book of savagely offensive pop singles, misjudged her market by a country mile and rode a stream of popularity to #1 with ‘Swagger Jagger’, what little integrity she had since being depicted as a stroppy diva with the arrogance to coin her own genre “swag pop” (which ended up as a mere conglomeration of parts of other genres awkwardly bolted together) was sucked dry in wake of the dodgy sample, the disjointed production and the frankly dire lyrics.
Minute improvements are made on ‘With Ur Love’, but her flippant lyrics simply don’t hold the water for even a pop artist. The song verges far too closely to all-out preciousness with it’s twee little introduction, incorrectly-spelled title and camp chorus. Obviously, there’s been an attempt to ground it’s high-flying glamour: Mike Posner’s awful cameo, but it practically floats by unnoticed because of his tissue-thin voice; his most potent effort on the song being that he potentially takes the reigns of ruin from Lloyd. There’s a suggestion than Cher, confident and mature (not my words) as she is, still doesn’t know how to run the pop circuit, despite demanding people to respect her as a unique artist within her own genre. The fact someone who’ll end up as nothing more than an inconsequential blip of music history demands so much of her audience drives away much customary from people over the age of twelve; existing in much the same tween-pop niche that you’d imagine Frankie Cocozza being shoved into, only lengthens the rope with which she’s spun herself a noose. Everything Lloyd is doing – her lyrics, social references, musical intentions – come vacuum-wrapped and set to expire when the teenyboppers grow up and play sheep to the next trend.