“They say time’s supposed to heal ya/I ain’t done much healing‘ Adele croons on the opener to her new album. That much is evident. 25 is a record predominantly preoccupied with roads not travelled, as I outlined in my review for Noisey UK, found here. But what does this mean for Adele’s progression as an artist? Here’s the track by track breakdown of 25.
Hello
Much has been made of Adele’s refusal to pander to contemporary trends, particularly in the visuals for Hello. Sepia wash, flip phones and landline calls are clear signifiers of a desire to hold Hello above the melee of memes and vines that accompany every new pop track. In an album context the song remains solid, despite being firmly trod ground. The secret lies in the bombast of the opening chorus lines and Adele’s commitment to the line ‘Hello from the outsiiiiiiiide’, lifting Hello from lolling in the doldrums with 25‘s other ballads. Instead, Hello feels like a mission statement, albeit one that the majority of the record fails to live up to.
Send My Love (To Your New Lover)
A cuckoo in the nest. Send My Love is helmed by Max Martin and it shows. Track 2 is instantly surprising, a sprightly little earworm that takes Adele closer than ever before to truly meriting the ‘pop’ label we categorize her under. We’re treated to an adorable little sequence of claps and harmonies, as fresh as the new beginnings it espouses. ‘We gotta let go of all of our ghosts/We both know we ain’t kids no more.’ The forary into Scandi-pop is unfortunately a promise of experimentation that 25 doesn’t deliver on. It’s a shame; we’re not asking Adele to sack in her midtempo belters for an entire LP of FKA twigs-esque sonic innovation but Send My Love offers us a taster of where she could take it and the results are to be savoured.
I Miss You
One thing 25‘s eclectic line up of producers reveals is that Adele’s at her best when she’s working with a collaborator who both understands her sound and yet manages to push her gently in new directions. Long time production partner Paul Epworth was always going to be a sure bet here and I Miss You is one of 25‘s unmissable moments. From the beginning, it throbs and pulses as Adele wraps her phenomenal voice around the words, purring sensually during verses before sending her words spiralling skywards as the chorus hits. ‘Treat me soft but touch me cruel‘ she croons, ‘We play so dirty in the dark’. It’s as explicitly sexual as you’ll ever find Adele although I Miss You explores intimacy on all levels. Incredible.
When We Were Young
Adele’s superhuman ability to emote is both a blessing and a curse. The former for obvious reasons but the latter because it means sometimes she settles for sub-par because that voice tends to paper over all the cracks. When We Were Young is an affecting song but ultimately just misses the mark. Perhaps it’s simply not aimed at my age group; after all, we’ve barely had the chance to get old. There’s a solid chance that this one will take on more significance as we grow up until it finally makes bittersweet sense. In the meantime look out for that incredible note on the penultimate chorus.
Remedy
Ryan Tedder is becoming a synonym for ‘skippable’ with his endless factory line of perfectly satisfactory but completely nonthreatening ballads. Every element of this song feels borrowed from somewhere else and it’s less than the sum of its parts. Close but no cigar.
Water Under The Bridge
This giant Greg Kurstin barnstormer has proved divisive among critics but it’s one of the best tracks on the album thanks to that rolling drumbeat. Besides, who can deny a thumping gospel chorus? Adele delivers a defiant ultimatum that could easily be translated into endless radio plays but this song is more cleverly constructed than those who dismiss it as ‘overproduced’ give credit. A mid-album rallying point.
River Lea
Water-based metaphors find frequent employment on 25, there’s endless mentions of oceans, tears and of course, water under the bridge. River Lea is sort of Hometown Glory: The Sequel, a pining, hymnal plea to return to a time when happiness was straightforward. A particularly poignant line goes ‘Sometimes I feel lonely in the arms of your touch/But I know that’s just me cause nothing is enough’, speaking to that gnawing ache present in all of us that wonders ‘am I happy?’ even at our most ostensibly joyful moments. River Lea paints Adele as a creature not quite at home in the adult world she’s found herself occupying, blaming her restlessness on her constant need to keep flowing, just like the river that weaves its way through her hometown. Painfully close to the bone.
Love In The Dark
Here’s where things start to slow down. A sluggish break-up ballad that casts Adele in a similar role to 19‘s First Love– note the similarities between the two when she begs her rejected lover to remove their gaze to assuage her guilt. Same old, same old.
A Million Years Ago
Another intriguing nugget courtesy of Kurstin. A Million Years Ago isn’t a great song per se– it’s value lies in the lyrics which, for the first time on 25 seem to address the elephant in the room: Adele’s post-fame experiences. 25 is noticeably focused on picking at past scars rather than confronting present fears. Perhaps Adele’s current existence is simply too cushy to write about but something about the bone-deep melancholy that permeates 25 suggests not. Instead, there’s a suggestion that its simply easier to focus on those long-ago regrets that pose no danger of causing real emotional turmoil now. They’re faded wounds; only on A Million Years Ago does Adele hint at the isolation she faces now. ‘When I walk around all of the streets/Where I grew up and found my feet/They can’t look me in the eye/It’s like they’re scared of me‘ she croaks, only sparse guitar as accompaniment. It’s a saddening reminder that all that glitters is certifiably not gold.
All I Ask
Bruno Mars is an extraordinarily talented musician. So is Adele. So why is this hook up so disappointingly bland? 70s cheese and a key change fall horribly short.
Sweetest Devotion
Adele’s grand finale, her resolution, is a curious beast. So removed from the torment of the previous 10 tracks, it could almost be a bonus. Sweetest Devotion is a beautiful, sweeping old-school ode to her son, Angelo, who makes a cameo at the beginning of the track. 25 deliberately avoids tackling Adele’s current domestic situation; it’s very easy to forget she’s now both mother and committed partner when listening to successive tracks dealing with heartbreak, which makes Sweetest Devotion a slightly jarring addition to the record. Despite that, it’s a welcome one, providing a rare glimpse of an Adele not struggling with emotional trauma but one who’s learning that the purest forms of love don’t have to be romantic, or painful, in order to be legitimate.
25 isn’t an easy album and nor is it one Adele has just churned out by rote. There’s a considerable amount of pain and raw honesty visible here, although it has a tendency to get lost among the by-the-numbers arrangements present on the back end of the album. Still, you’re going to cry; only Pixar movies are capable of consistently exercising the same power to trigger tear ducts in the way Adele’s glorious voice does. While 25 would benefit from more confidence to experiment with sound and more consistency, it’s in keeping with the theme: after all, like Adele, we’re all still figuring it out.
Orpheus Speaks 