Welcome back to the world of Lily Allen, where the men worth crying over once they inevitably leave her are far outnumbered by the ones with small penises who can’t satisfy her sexually, and where singing about this angst with a deceptively sweet and calm voice makes for a pretty darn good pop album; it’s like the (DC Comics) Anti-Life Equation – a mathematical equation proving the futility of life and psychologically enslaves anyone exposed to it — once it has its hooks in you it’s easy to forget that it’s probably the most cynically depressing thing you’ve heard since, well, her last album – except that it’s catchier, heavier, and – dare we say – a little more world-aware and mature.

Grade: 8.4 / 10

Capitol
February 9, 2009