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It has become fashionable of late to dismiss the 'mini-Allens': the Norf-London tongued purveyors of cheery little kitchen sink ditties that 'speak' to 'the kids'. So to avoid any confusion, it's worth clearing up early on that Remi Nicole's 'My Conscience And I' is rubbish entirely in its own right, and would be even if Remi had not worked with Lily Allen's producers or spoken in interviews about hanging out in the pub with Amy Winehouse.
Opening track 'Go With The Flow' demonstrates the album's shortcomings in microcosm: crunchy and catchy pop-rock, more inoffensive than a de-clawed kitten waving a white flag, smeared all over with brain-meltingly anodyne lyrics. We establish that Remi used to have a normal job but then became a singer; then, still reeling from this revelation, second track 'Rock N Roll' breathlessly explains that Remi is more a fan of, erm, Rock'n'Roll than she is of Hip-Hop. The lyrics completely mar what would otherwise be a perfectly serviceable pop song, and also set an intensely irritating narrative trend for the album which uses the he said annoying thing X/I said amusing retort Y format on virtually every track.
'New Old Days' makes a bizarre detour into reggae, over which Remi lists a whole load of things she remembers from growing up in the 80s (sample lyric: "Do you remember when we used to use a cassette player? / MP3s and DVDs weren't invented"). The album's highlight is 'Lights Out', a heartfelt lovelorn ballad of the type that Avril wouldn't turn her nose up at. But then it's rapidly back downhill, with more you said/I said antics on 'Right Side Of Me'; a pointless list of nice things about summer on 'Go Mr Sunshine'; and the shock observation that people often do jobs they don't like just for money on 'Soul Back'.
It's not all Remi's fault: labels have been convincing themselves since the Arctic Monkeys that what people want is real life observation. But there's a difference between observation and analysis: while t'Monkeys excel at the latter, Remi seems to deal in dispassionately noting down every thought that runs through her head.
'My Conscience And I' is less an enlightening insight into the mindset of a young woman living in modern Britain, but more the disappointment that follows an illicit peek into a girl's diary only to find that almost everything in it is stunningly mundane. She knows her way around a catchy tune, but the teeth-grinding cringeworthyness of Remi's lyrics makes this a début to avoid.
