Emmy the Great - First Love

9 MOGstars out of Ten

When Dante led us on a trip through the depths of Hell, it appears he left out one of its infamous circles. Yes, somewhere between the traitors and the bankers lurks a special kind of sinner - the slick hipster who uses his musical knowledge to seduce the sweet and simple songstresses that pass by his web. Fortunately for us, Emmy the Great, the latest (and evidently most modest) in an increasing line of English folksters (most obviously last year's favourite, Laura Marling) has braved those realms and conferred her voyage to record.

It soon becomes apparent from the waltzing acoustic guitars and lilting sing-songiness of title track First Love that such men have a way with Emmy's heart. The villain of this piece, a posturing lothario who lures our singer back to his apartment with Halleluiah, the origin Leonard Cohen version (as the staccato chorus emphasises, and whose hook garnishes the piece) and the promise that "I have a room/I have music to play". The track is at the same time doleful and innocent, garnering our sympathies, although its lyrics are ever knowing and a marching crescendo of halleluiahs make us question whether this one night stand was really so grim.

The star of Dylan receives no such reprieve. But then he is an unadulterated prick. A man for who Bobby's songs "are a sentiment you don't want to share", the self-appointed guru burying his head in 13th century books "which aren't that hard to read" and dreaming of a blue plaque outside his parents' house, all the while being the only one who truly understands Highway 61. In this foot stomping diatribe Emmy pours forth alluring amounts of venom, which can't help but remind you of the pretentious fools in your own life.

Yet it is own the outstanding We Almost Had a Baby that both the singer's vindictiveness and talents shine. As the track's gentle finger picking gathers intensity, picking up strings and a choral section as it snowballs, we see Emmy transform from plaything to potential puppeteer. While the opening line hints at her beau's crime, it is the retribution which she concerns herself with, as she revels in the power and potential of holding this information over the errant boyfriend's head. "I would have liked to/To have something above you" she muses, all the more intimidating for its coyness, while the final hints at co-dependency provide and vulnerability contrast perfectly with this initial power.

Doleful melancholy mixed with pop culture references seem to set a theme for this album - in MIA a young couple crash their car to the strains of a mixtape, the female slowly pondering her own demise as the boyfriend "who told me her name was either Mia, or M.I.A" lies with his head smashed into the radio, their entwined bodies serving as a romantically gruesome image of love. 24 sees Emmy chastising her layabout boyfriend for his Jack Bauer marathons - "the man on the screen/has done more in a minute/than you have achieved/in your whole entire life" she purrs, morbid, nihilistic but also resolved to change.

Ultimately it is difficult to review this album without comparing it to Laura Marling. Musically the two girls are similar, although Emmy seems to focus on her lyrics more. Ultimately the result makes her seem more powerful than Marling, whilst the latter is shy and fragile, Emmy's perfect enunciation conveys confidence, which seems to dominate her ethereal music. That said, as we take a tour of her relationship house of horrors and quarter life crises there is enough of an understated vulnerability, while recurring references to tapes and the subtle use of strings imply a timeless quality. These effects have culminated in an album which is both emotional and intellectual - at times it grabs you by the throat, makes you sit up and listen, whilst at other times it is simply content to wash over you, yet either way it will charm and impress.