Girl Ray’s ingeniously titled debut record is a impressively confident effort marooned in the ramshackle of 60s and 70s pop rock. The London three-piece are delightfully British, with frontwoman Sophie Hankin’s falsetto acting as a spotlight illuminating all before it as it floats on the tottering grooves the band are air-locked into. Earl Grey is an album that strikes a charming balance between adolescent simplicity and shrewd writing, and the trio – all still in their teens when this album was recorded – manage to nod to and connect to their obvious influences all whilst creating a real, impish identity of their own. There are areas of the record where moments become a bit looser and less infectious, but generally this is a strong debut. Its range is ambitious, too, considering where it drops its anchor, and there’s no better example of that ambition – and the confidence to put it into practice – than the thirteen-minute, shapeshifting title track that keystones Earl Grey the album.
[FIRST PUBLISHED ON NO RIPCORD]