Someone buy this girl a thesaurus!
One of the painfully obvious and overused expressions when writing stories or songs is to write from experience. In many ways this makes perfect sense, you can only relay from the trials and tribulations of the life that you have lead. For anyone who has sat through a year ten English lesson where the guy sat next to you reads excerpts from his creative piece about his time in the Crimean war this is is truly sage advice that really should have been followed. However, there are ways of going about this. Bruce Springsteen uses his bleak youth growing up in Asbury Park to fuel fictitious fables about characters who didn't actually have that much in common with The Boss but were steeped in his world. They call it metaphor. And its something that Remi Nicole desperately needs.
On the plus side, its not all that hard to identify with 'My Conscience And I'. Yes, I remember a world before DVDs and used to watch Grange Hill after school just as is laid out in 'New Old Days'. But although it did put me in mind of being ten years old for a brief moment it mostly reinforced that I a) don't think that those things are all that important and b) I just don't care.
The biggest problem with the 'My Conscience and I' is the lyrics. They are so functional that they become ugly. Yes, there are stories being told but there is no mystique of metaphor or simile, no gloss to ease the ear and not even the slightest whiff of imagery. This would not be so much of a problem if it were accompanied by catchy and lovable tunes, but this simply isn't the case. 'Go With The Flow' is a decent opener and 'Light Out' comes close to being charming, but on the whole the album smacks of musical afterthought, a means of backing up the words. Which is a real shame because, frankly, they're crap.
While Remi Nicole should be applauded for the honesty that shines through this record, 'My Conscience and I' fails to excite or energise. It takes the mould laid out by Lily Allen and Kate Nash but tries to market it to a mainstream rock audience, who, frankly, can hear tales of songwriters' lives done with a lot more style and finesse elsewhere. It will probably be popular with the teeny boppers weaned on Radio One's engineered playlist, but for those with but a gnat's wing of musical breadth of knowledge then this will sound like what it is - undeveloped fluff.