Polly Scattergood

I mature enough to accept there are a lot of records been made today that weren’t intended for me, a 46-year old music junkie with an abnormal obsession for Telecaster rhythm tracks and close harmonies.

Bon Iver, in all his introspective wisdom, was not made for me.

Nor was Polly Scattergood.

She who claims Elton John as an influence but sounds like a Tori Amos acolyte, who whispers at me because she’s sharing a secret, who’s seemingly obsessed with how much she’s been hurt and by whom. She of deep feelings.

Polly Scattergood’s new record, which was released yesterday, was made for teenage girls sitting cross-legged on the floor of their bedroom, writing poetry in their journals, trying to convince themselves that popularity doesn’t matter, wishing their fathers understood them. It was made for today’s cool cognoscenti, sitting about nightclubs, bobbing their heads knowingly at an artist who’s not likely be remembered past the next drink.

Be you of youth and deep feelings or age and cynicism (or some combination thereof), herein feel free to sample:

Polly Scattergood – Breathe In, Breathe Out
Polly Scattergood – Bunny Club
Polly Scattergood – I Am Strong