JENNY WILSON - Love And Youth

Thirty years old, Swedish, making her solo debut after a stint in a modestly successful local indie band (First Floor Power). We're talking about Jenny Wilson, horror-movie looks and less-than-flattering beauty (just look at the album cover), but crystalline talent, one of the most overlooked artists of the past year. On "Love and Youth", Wilson pulls off one of those impossible feats: combining experimentation and melody, writing songs, real classic songs, great songs, but conceiving, arranging and performing them from an off-kilter perspective, fusing the two impulses and coming across as both catchy and cutting-edge.

The tense atmosphere of the intro track "Crazy Summer" comes from an electronic pulse that starts out somewhat "O Superman"-like before turning into violin-like textures over a steady round of keyboards, not softened by the quiet notes of a harp but instead darkened further by a bleak gospel choir. It's therefore surprising to stumble upon the pop charm (which will actually run through almost the entire record) of "Summertime – The Roughest Time", a lopsided summer song with guitar marking time, flashes of folktronica, horn stabs, the odd yelp, the odd whistle, the odd hand-clap, and a hazy synth to top it all off nobly. "Let My Shoes Lead Me Forward" doubles down on that result, propped up by piano and drum patterns, cheeky synths, violins and guitars chiseling away at the track, a kind of "Feel Good Inc." part two (even though the two songs are actually contemporaries).

Perhaps the comparison with Gorillaz best fits Wilson's outlook (at least when she indulges in crowd-pleasing pop numbers), though she leans distinctly more toward the intellectual side and swaps out the hip-hop influence for a folk component. The Swede, however, boasts a truly impressive gift for songwriting, sharper and more incisive than the otherwise fine latest effort from Albarn, and ultimately delivers an album without a single filler track (unlike "Demon Days"). But "Love and Youth" isn't just that. Already "Those Winters" shows just how wide a spectrum is covered here. Enchanted air, keyboards and tambourine up front, an impressive "classical" elegance in the way the piece unfolds, in the development of the chorus, in the vocals.

"Would I Play With My Band?", on the other hand, rests on a frantic, razor-sharp guitar riff, with little bells (like the harp on the opening track) failing to soften it, a heartfelt and vital performance, tension that dissolves into the caress of the chorus over a gorgeous piano progression. And indeed it's piano, keyboards and synths that are the true stars of the album, able to conjure delightful harmonies for the songs to rest on, coming out elevated to their fullest potential. The best example is the carousel-like whirl of the beautiful title track, built on guitar, voice and every kind of keyboard imaginable.

The vocal registers vary too, often shifting wildly within the same song, as in "Love Ain't Just a Four Letter Word", where Wilson has fun leaping from a frantic Patti Smith to a Gwen Stefani full of backing coos and whispers, before dropping a Bee Gees falsetto into the refrain. But it's still not over. There's still enough time to show off further eclecticism, painting a country desolation worthy of Chan Marshall on "Common Around Here", diving into the funk of "Hey, What's the Matter?" (again, if it still needs pointing out, with a gorgeous little piano hook) and closing the album with a desolate soul number, "Balcony Smoker".

The overall result is truly beautiful, catchy, varied and of the highest quality. The fruits born of Wilson's ambition come across as diverse, colorful and delicious: it would be a shame to let them rot.

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30/04/2026