Fourteen years after she won The X Factor as part of Little Mix, Jade Thirlwall (who performs mononymously – like the best stars do – as JADE) has emerged with her first record. Where many post-band projects (cough cough, Louis Tomlinson) stick to anonymous, paint-by-numbers pop, Thirlwall’s album brims with personality and ideas. The word that comes to mind is auspicious; despite a few uneven spots, That’s Showbiz, Baby! is a promising start to Thirlwall’s solo career, with a controlled-chaos, ‘picky tea’ approach that’s sure to appease even the most discerning of pop fans.
The record’s most successful moments are often its riskiest. Lead single ‘Angel Of My Dreams’ is the most winning example, a careening crash course on Thirlwall’s fraught relationship with the music industry – by way of rapped electroclash and soapy power ballad. The dazzling ‘Unconditional’, which discusses Thirlwall’s mother’s health issues, filters New Age strut through vignettes of Lily Allen’s wryness and – incredibly – Moroder-esque synth stutters. These are ideas that simply don’t jell on paper, yet Thirlwall’s camp MCing, alongside a rich, tasteful production, help glue them together.
In fact, that campness – a dedicated, unabashed commitment to unseriousness – helps sell much of That’s Showbiz, Baby! The slinky, thumping ‘Midnight Cowboy’ has bars to spare: “I’m the ride of your life, not a rental / I’m the editor, call me Mr. Enninful,” with Thirlwall’s droll delivery just detached enough to show you that she’s cooler than you’ll ever be. She brilliantly follows this up with a disco track about sex, ‘Fantasy’. It’s one of several moments on the record where Thirlwall tries on a new genre like another pair of heels.
At times, the collagist approach to genre ends up feeling less intentional and more hodgepodge; some tracks come across as imitations rather than originals. ‘Glitch’, though not uncompelling, can’t help but feel like a B-side from thank u, next-era Ariana Grande. The balladic, fit-for-the-Love Island-campfire ‘Natural at Disaster’ is strangely anonymous when removed from its salacious subject matter (it’s rumoured to be about ex-bandmate Jesy Nelson, who reportedly has a fraught relationship with the other Little Mix members). ‘Before You Break My Heart’ succumbs to the sample-pop trend of a few years ago; the R&B number ‘Lip Service’ is fun but a little lazy.
Tellingly, these weaker spots are the moments when Thirlwall seems to be the least herself. It’s when she opens Pandora’s box (an allusion she herself makes on ‘Fantasy’) to her litany of references that the album kicks into gear. Much of the tracklist reveals Thirlwall to be a careful student of pop music history; the brilliant, brash ‘Headache’ recalls the scrappiest inclinations of Avril Lavigne’s brand of pop-rock, whilst Eurovision comes to mind more than once – chiefly on the high-drama ‘FUFN (F*** You For Now)’. Crucially, these high points find Thirlwall pulling these sounds into her orbit – not the other way around – and making them her own.
Yet, beneath all the cross-pollination of genre, there’s proper depth to be found, too. ‘Plastic Box’ reveals potent insecurity when thinking of a lover’s prior relationships. The warm, electric ‘Self Saboteur’ complements this with thoughts of imposter syndrome – and has, alongside closer ‘Silent Disco’, some of the most impressive vocal moments on the album. These are the points where Thirlwall sounds most confident. As she herself tells it: she is the ‘It Girl’. Enjoy her show.
Words by Archie Marks
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