Caroline Sullivan 

Stooshe: London with the Lights On – review

Listening to the London girl-band's debut is like eavesdropping on funny, trash-talking ladies who sing like a trio of Beyoncés, writes Caroline Sullivan
  
  


There are plenty of reasons to like Stooshe's debut album, which has arrived six months late after accusations of label "interference". Though the London girl-band aren't the badasses they pretend to be – if they were, they'd have refused to allow the track originally known as Fuck Me to be retitled Love Me – they have confidence and skills to spare. Listening to the album is akin to eavesdropping on a conversation between funny, trash-talking women who happen to sing like a trio of Beyoncés: it's a noisy, highly entertaining 50 minutes. There are juvenile ad-libs ("Hey diddle diddle, my cat needs a fiddle!" someone squawks on Love Me, and there's more of that sort of thing elsewhere) and outbreaks of beautiful harmonising, especially on the doo-wop pastiche Slip and the reggaeish My Man Music. And while the protagonist of Hoochi Mumma plays into Tory stereotypes (she's a single mother who's "in love with the social" and spends her benefits on booze), at least the song sets them apart from the media-trained pop hordes.

 

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