Now released in the UK following US success, including two Grammy R&B nominations, Andra Day’s debut also comes armed with classy backing from the likes of Questlove, the Dap-Kings and Raphael Saadiq: all varnished-walnut production topped with handsome brass fixtures. But Day’s voice, while technically strong, lacks the charisma of a Lee Fields or Sharon Jones, and much here feels fairly standard-issue. She frequently – and embarrassingly – imitates Amy Winehouse’s tomcat yowl, with added wikki-wah Ronsonisms from Jazzy Jeff on Only Love; uptempo ballad Rearview fares better, but seems in thrall to Adele. By the album’s end, however, Day has found a vocal style of her own. In firing clean, piercing notes through the torrid waltz of City Burns, she perfectly evokes a tale of urban self-definition. And on the title track she drops the affectations, loosens her shoulders and just sings – wherein the jazziness she previously only simulated finally emerges for real.
