The Danish songwriter has spent several years in England, and the single carries the stamp. It is the second release from her forthcoming EP, *I Think I Said Something*, and it trades the usual ballad of self-reproach for something brighter and more mischievous. Quirky, energetic pop is the brief, and she honours it with a grin rather than a salute. Where a lesser writer would turn the subject of overthinking into a brooding monologue, Neel treats it as a pest to be shooed out of the room.<\/p>
Her voice does much of the persuading. Radio hosts in Denmark and beyond have been comparing it to Kate Bush, a compliment so frequently and carelessly handed out that it has lost most of its value. Here it lands for a more specific reason. The resemblance lies less in timbre than in nerve: a willingness to sound a little strange in public, to swoop where a safer singer would sit, and to treat theatricality as a form of honesty. Neel never tips into pastiche. She keeps one eyebrow raised throughout, and the song is better for it.<\/p>
Behind the desk sits Mark Flannery, whose credits span Depeche Mode and Def Leppard. Those two names mark out an unlikely stretch of territory, taking in cool electronic mood on one side and arena-sized hooks on the other. His touch seems to be one of discipline: he lets a chorus be big without letting it get fat, and he leaves enough rough edge that the song never congeals into gloss. It sounds like a record made by people who know exactly how much polish a quirk can bear.<\/span><\/p> The title itself is a small joke worth savouring. West Street is the Brighton thoroughfare where student nights tend to begin hopefully and end in a kebab queue, and Neel studied songwriting at BIMM in that city, where Tom Odell and James Bay also found their feet. She has lifted from it not the hangover but the thrill: the feeling of being absorbed in the moment, surrounded by people and ideas, and daring to follow your own compass without auditing yourself from the outside. That is the British edge she credits, and it shows up as swagger rather than as any particular guitar tone.<\/span><\/p> What keeps the single from tipping into self-help is its refusal to preach. Neel has said she wrote it as an anthem to herself, a reminder to climb off the hamster wheel and allow herself to be more than one version of herself. It is a sturdy idea, and in lesser hands it would arrive wrapped in affirmations. She delivers it as an invitation instead, delivered with a wink and a hand held out, the way a friend steers you toward the door when you have spent too long dithering in the hallway.<\/span><\/p> It has charm, momentum and a point of view, three qualities that pop music habitually mislays. It also arrives on the back of real traction, from airplay on Danish P4 and German stations such as Fritz and NDR2 to a place on IMPALA and YouTube’s list of European artists to watch.<\/span><\/p> “West Street” is a reminder that confidence can be a performance you rehearse into reality. Put the lipstick on. Go out.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n\nhttps:\/\/digidi.net\/SiriNeel<\/a>\n\n\n\n\n
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