Whilst I can understand why most people keep their psyches above the choppy water that is the world we live in today via a philosophical ethos of jaded nihilism, lately I have been reminded that it is important to be open to giving people the opportunity to surprise you. Not merely in a defeatist “never surprised, always disappointed” kind of way though, like how we seem to dismiss every political scandal with a catch-all shrug of “well, they are all awful anyway”, but rather one that is able to hold onto even a kernel of salient optimism, that the status quo can not only be challenged but changed for the better. In the world of pop music, this normally happens in reverse, either via a decline in quality or creative spur inherited after years of workaday sameness to try new avenues of expression, often mislabelled by so-called fans as a purposeful refusal to “make hits”. Every so often though, an artist will emerge with a work impressive enough to both warrant a critical re-evaluation whilst also towing the fan service line, the most prominent example recently being one Taylor Swift, who hit the sweetest spot in her career thus far last year with a double–whammy of lockdown-birthed efforts wherein the critical adulation finally matched the rabid appreciation from her army of dedicated fans. I mean, even I had to admit that some of it is pretty-effing lovely…

I bring this particular phenomenon up only because the next album in my Vinylly collection is one for whom my personal cherishment is bolstered somewhat by this specific factor. It may still remain infuriatingly situated on the more niche side of cult status amongst fans of dark electro-pop music rather than frequently heralded as one of the finest examples of the genre in recent memory, but the way in which in one fell swoop it provided its progenitor with an arresting hairpin turn of self-discovery from being a follower of the retro-poptimism movement of the 2000s to a synthpop maven of operatic intensity surely cannot remain ignored.

VINYLLY

#4: Samson & Delilah – V V Brown (2013, YOY Records/YOY001V)

Spotify / Apple

Though she would first capture the mainstream media’s attention in 2009 with the release of her debut album Travelling Like The Light, Vanessa Brown had previously displayed seriously prodigious musical chops prior to her first dalliance with popstar-dom. Having been trained to play the violin, piano and trumpet from a young age as well as being bestowed with a modelesque frame that saw her tower over her contemporaries, Brown was being courted by music industry moguls with development deals before she had even finished her academic studies, forgoing a potential career in law to pursue one in music, an early benchmark for which was set when she scored a writing credit for The Pussycat Dolls’ “I Don’t Need A Man” in 2005. After a tumultuous few years spent in a nebula of nearly-almost-nearly-not-quite frustration that nearly subsumed her, she was poised to make a big splash amidst the golden era of nostalgic indie-pop that characterised the late 2000s with the likes of Duffy, Noisettes, The Ting Tings and Gabriella Cilmi, Light’s sound was as bright, boisterous and commercially friendly as those of her counterparts who were still riding off of the ripple effect caused by the juggernaut that was Amy Winehouse’s Back To Black to results that straddled the line between charming and reductive.

By the time Light got released though, the charts had begun to embrace more calculatedly vapid variants on the electronic dance-pop angle, as hits from David Guetta, Flo Rida, Katy Perry and Lady Gaga primed the music industry for the rise of EDM (or as I like to call it, “The Age Of The Wub-Wub”). As a result, Brown’s star had not quite achieved the dazzling heights of supernova fame that those fickle record bosses likely expected, though she had courted enough good notice to warrant investment in a second long-form release, Lollipops & Politics. However, if interest in Light was modest at best, Lollipops’ was nearly non-existent; though the release of a mixtape in 2011 promised an album with a broader sonic palette and deeper universal insights than its predecessor, an air of uncertainty lingered over the whole enterprise, evidenced by the poor performance of the teaser singles and the consequential pushbacks of the release date.

Eventually, Brown and then-home-label Island Records would shelve the project completely, admirably telling fans directly that this release was not quite adhering to anyone’s idea of how it corresponded with Brown’s artistry before revealing that a completely different album of unheard material would be arriving in its place later in 2013. And with respect to Light’s mainstream-towing methodologies, Samson & Delilah most certainly was “completely different” to what anyone was expecting. Cultivated with a selective core of respectable indie-pop producers including former member of M83 Pierre-Marie Maulini and The Invisible’s Dave Okumu, Brown’s second album proper is the kind of recklessly bold volte-face that an artist can only get away with if they show a staunch commitment to the cause, bringing the Biblical allegory of love and betrayal to life for the digital age with a bracing mix of high-drama electronica, pitch-shifting poignancy and dancefloor-ready fierceness that finds a sublime midpoint between the darker moments of both Grace Jones and The Knife’s discographies by way of Madonna’s Ray Of Light era.

The latter’s influence is especially prevalent on the opening track right down to sharing part of that album opener’s title, but Brown sidesteps any dismissive estimations instantly with her newfound operatic intonations, forgoing the bellowing ebullience of her earlier vocal work for something more imperious and sensual. Singing in a higher register allowed Brown to navigate the drama of the contemplatively pulsing electronica far more mellifluously and sensitively than before, offering quite the breathtaking contrast when she bravely runs her vocal through the various tortured gauntlets of electronic clicks and bass rumbles. One particular highlight is the stunning “I Can Give You More”, whose alternating undulations between plaintive rumination and galvanising club-ready abandon probably provides the most succinct summation of the album’s future-pop charms, Brown’s vocals clipped and processed into distorted samples that every so often break through unfiltered and pierce the heart with laser-like precision.

Which is not to say that Samson finds Brown casting aside her previous popstar form for a more subdued and statelier persona throughout, as this album still has quite a few bops to delve out from under its shimmering sleeves. In the early going you have the chicaning synths fighting for space throughout “Nothing Really Matters” (another Ray Of Light reference, surely?) and the Homogenic-style eruptive beats of “Igneous” that push Brown into more movement-inspiring territory, and “Ghosts” in the second half is the closest that Samson gets to building a bridge to her previous album, laying a prettily percolating framework of synths over a solid pop-standard structure with lyrical allusions to her previous hit “Shark In The Water” before fading away just a little too quickly out of earshot in what may be the album’s only misstep. For those seeking a more conventionally refined pop ballad, third single “Faith” has you covered, a wistful feel-good salve-for-the-soul that manages to feel universal enough without delving into vague platitudes, aided by atmospheric guitar fuzz distortions and beat signatures that manage to feel both warm and imposing.

Of course, a discussion about Samson cannot go by without mentioning one of the best future-disco-anthems of the 2010s, the slice of sublime kiss-off energy that is “The Apple”. Released just before the album in August 2013, the track is a collaboration with Belgian producer and engineer Pascal Gabriel, a former ‘70s punk rocker who would end up having a hand in quite a few hits for the likes of Blondie, Goldfrapp and Dido, among others. Immediately, the surging energy and confrontational elements of “The Apple” are impossible to ignore, but Brown’s vocal elevates the affair with an arresting mix of scorched earth lament and strident self-possession, simultaneously expressing regret over the continued ruination of a love long lost whilst still holding court in casting hellish ire at whoever was foolish enough to cross her in the first place. Though some have said that the track doesn’t deviate too far from its intended mode to offer enough of a stylistic variance (which it actually does with that brief wounded middle eight, but whatever UnFlopped!), this track is not about making room for another party’s viewpoint, but a fierce “Fuck You” incantation that doesn’t outstay its welcome any longer than it has to and should have been one of the biggest hits of the decade.

Only it didn’t quite happen. Specifically with regards to “The Apple”, it was most likely because the pop charts were enamoured with a chart battle between Lady Gaga’s “Applause” and Katy Perry’s “Roar” at the time (back when we could only have one female pop star releasing stuff at any single time, apparently), but despite more than a few critical garlands being thrown her way upon the eve of Samson’s release, the response from the general public outside of Brown’s fandom was something infinitely more “shruggish” than it should have been. Granted, an integral part of Samson not quite setting the charts alight was down to the nature of its release, as Brown had not just near enough written and produced the entire album herself but financed and distributed it also, having quietly parted ways with Island Records after the underperformance of Light and the yeah-not-really kerfuffle of Lollipops, so the major label capital typically utilised for the more promotional aspects of an album’s birthing were not present. Brown did book a whistlestop tour around Europe in support of the album though, including a stop at Electrowerkz in North London where she managed to play an entire show with a projector shining directly into her eyes and not miss a single beat, because she was just that wonderful (it did give her a striking visor across her beautiful face though).

Brown would go on to release one more album in 2015’s Glitch, which leaned more into the avant-disco-pop breach than Samson did, even dabbling into the realms of future-bass and post-dubstep with enchanting results, and was released in the same mode of independence as Samson this time with a little added bonhomie from the fans via a PledgeMusic campaign. Sadly, it also performed very much in the same vein of “best-kept-secret” sales-wise that Samson had, though critical appreciation was still very much in the favourable green especially with regards to the single “Sacrifice” and its salty accompanying video. Then in 2017, via an impassioned note on Instagram, she announced that she would be quitting music as a full-time occupation for the foreseeable future, though was keen to stress that it wasn’t a final farewell. Most recently though, she has published her first children’s book, Lily And The Magic Comb, inspired by starting her own family, created a Podcast series and is still very much active on her Insta, where she has been dropping hints at getting back into composing songs and even heading out for some shows.

In the meantime though, at the very least please give Samson & Delilah a listen, simply for being a piece of beauteous art-synth-pop par excellence! “Don’t bring me down” people, you know it makes sense.

xxxo