Lily Allen

British singer-songwriter Lily Allen has a rather mellifluous name. She dresses in full skirts and dons a lot of bows. She wears her chocolate-brown hair in side bangs to accentuate her round face. Her melodies are simple and sweet. In short, she plays the part of a naïve little girl particularly well. It’s an impressive façade, and in her new album “It’s Not Me, It’s You,” she uses it to her great advantage.

A boldly irreverent lyricist, Allen seems to have taken Mary Poppins’ advice about “a spoonful of sugar” to heart. While she delivers messages that are brash, defiant and sometimes painfully candid, she delivers them in poppy tunes, soft beats and simple harmonies. Her voice, too, is gentle and—at least to the American ear—charmingly accented. But the main appeal of her music lies in what she has to say, and she knows it functions as both the primary melodic element and rhythmic focus of her songs, drawing attention to her messages more than anything else. Her idiosyncratic combination of indulgently catchy tunes and witty, strong-willed lyrics—best exemplified in the 2006 hit single “Smile,” a song about cynicism and emotional independence in response to a whiny ex—define her unique persona.

Allen has been on the scene for a few years (her first album “Alright, Still,” was released in 2006), developing her style while staying true to her original devil-in-disguise tactics. Although “It’s Not Me, It’s You” is only her second full album, the encouraging success of her earlier work—earning her a BMI songwriting award and a double-platinum record—has given Allen enough confidence to explore and experiment here. It’s refreshing to hear ska, jazz, and techno influences slipping into her pop beats. In one track on the new album, “Never Gonna Happen,” Allen uses folksy strings and an accordion, along with a handclap slowly building in tempo, to drill her message of rejection into the clueless head of an unwanted suitor. At the same time, though, she cleverly unravels admissions of ways in which she’s led the poor guy on, making her repeated question “How on earth could I be any more obvious?” an ironic one. The song mocks immaturity on several levels and comes off as one of the strongest on the album.

Allen’s confrontational candor makes several appearances on “It’s Not Me, It’s You;” it is manifest even in the title of the album itself. In “Not Fair,” Allen sings frankly about how her boyfriend’s sexual shortcomings eclipse all his other virtues, and in “Fuck You” she bravely denounces some acquaintances for being “small-minded” and “racist,” claiming their “point of view is medieval.” In each, though, Allen again delivers some comic relief—the title of the latter, for instance, is repeated over and over in the manner of Alvin and the Chipmunks.

While it’s easy to enjoy the seemingly innocuous Allen deliver poetic justice, she also demonstrates that she, too, can admit weaknesses and regrets. She includes an endearing number called “Who’d Have Known,” a cautious confession of the awkward anxieties of a nascent attraction, and a long apology called “Back to the Start” in which she repents the past pettiness she displayed towards a sibling. “Back to the Start” is oddly set to a techno beat, when it could have benefited from a slower, soulful pace, but this compositional decision does lend the piece a gushing, earnest and embarrassed tone below the overpowering background noise. The song does, however, boast a sincere moment of respite from the buzz in which Allen promises, “this is not just a song / I intend to put these words into action.” The singer displays more skill with techno influences in her criticism of drug culture, “Everyone’s At It.”

While Allen’s new album could fairly be characterized by confrontation, she is not just contrary for the sake of contrariness. Not allowing herself to escape her own far-reaching criticisms, “The Fear” is a previously-released track about the seduction of show business and the ways Allen has compromised herself for it. She quips, nodding to the obsessions of contemporary politics, “I am a weapon of massive consumption; / It’s not my fault, it’s how I’m programmed to function.”

There are, of course, songs less successful than others—for instance, “Chinese” tries to celebrate the comfortable and mundane in a relationship but comes off as a little monotonous, and the self-congratulation of “He Wasn’t There,” despite the song’s inspired beginning reminiscent of an old Billie Holiday record, feels a little flat. Still, Allen’s bittersweet lyrics echo long after the record has finished playing, and it’s a challenge to forget her infectious melodies. Don’t be fooled by her darling demeanor; in “It’s Not Me, It’s You,” she proves her mettle as both a musician and satirist.