As a rule of thumb, it is wise to approach bands with song titles spelt in text speech with caution; especially if they draw on legendary influences like Jeff Buckley and Skunk Anasie.
So, surprise me not Grace Solero, with your Skunk-lite, pseudo-goth, whinge-cos-your-daddy-wasn’t-there-for-you pop-rock.
Any surge of passion is compressed to every inch of its life on this MTV-wet-dream.
All elements of the song sound uncannily like they’ve been fed through a hard-rock cleansing machine, ground up and spat out, half-congealed into a self conscious blob of pop phlegm.
Solero’s cold crooning sounds like it hasn’t emanated from her throat, but from far off digital place, tweaked and condensed by studio mastery.
If you’re a fan of inoffensive, radio-rock like Avril Lavigne you will be excited by Solero’s harder sound.
If not, stay well, well away.