The real strength of Filthy Underneath lies in Nadine Shah purging her emotions to create something beautiful, punchy and totally unique.
Thank God Nadine Shah is back, not least because she’s one of the more likeable and interesting characters in music but also because, in the years since 2020’s Kitchen Sink, the singer has been through challenging times.
With characteristic bravery and honesty, many of them are documented on this fifth album Filthy Underneath, on which she turns tragedy into triumph.
One can hope that everything has been laid bare, for the subjects covered are done so with ruthless honesty. Closing track French Exit, which evolved into a song from entries in Nadine Shah’s journal, outlines the thought process before a suicide attempt.
Impassive, morse code synths are the backing music to a seemingly inane monologue (‘Pizza box lid when I couldn’t find paper, wine was fancy) before the road becomes clear: ‘A quiet little way out, nothing explicit’.
Gently haunting without being oppressive, the understated nature of the text is quietly devastating, the pulsing bass signifying anxiety while the synths invoke desperation.
A sobering end to an album, yet what comes before showcases the road travelled since and the explosion of cathartic creativity that followed, especially vocally.
Nadine Shah has always had an impressive voice, but it’s clear now she was holding back. On the likes of Even Light her range is better exploited. Subtle electronics and a steadfast bass are just two layers of a track which is both spacious and meticulous, as Shah speaks to her inner child (‘Are you feeling hurt? Is your ego bruised?).
Similarly, on the swirling Food For Fuel she leans into her singing to complement the instrumentation while simultaneously dominating the song with her beguiling tones which envelope the listener.
Elsewhere, on tribal lead single Topless Mother there’s a joyful abandon as she belts out a nonsensical-but-uplifting chorus (‘Sinatra/Viagra/Iguana’), proving that it’s not what you say, but how you say it that matters.
Not to belittle the lurking verses, which recall conversations with a therapist who Nadine Shah did not connect with: ‘I want to get inside your house and have a proper nose about’, alongside an irrepressible groove and echoing guitars.
It seems appropriate at this point to give credit to Shah’s long-term collaborator Ben Hillier, who has provided a sonic palette for the album (that builds on what was an already diverse sound) which conveys the mood and intent, such as the desolate, dubby electronics of You Drive, I Shoot.
A consciously downbeat clockwork arrangement works alongside Shah recalling accompanying her mother to cancer treatment (‘Sat in the back, incoherent chat, doctors give you this, doctors give you that’).
Or the shadowy monologue of Sad Lads Anonymous, where the rattling snare and subtle rock riff accompany a groove and a brutally honest recollection of when Shah moved to the ‘dilapidated schizophrenic’ town of Margate and the mental health struggles that move incurred.
Knowing life is complex, Nadine Shah peppers the song with snippets of self-deprecating humour (‘This was a dumb idea, even for you’) which manage to raise a wry smile. It recalls Maxine Peake’s collaboration with Johnny Marr (The Priest) in its rawness, and one of many tracks here which has a lasting effect.
Yet in truth, there’s not really a weak spot on the album. The majestic, widescreen electro pop of Keeping Score is awe-inspiring, taking Nadine Shah’s own experience of sexual violence and making it into something determined and beautiful, as is Hyperrealism, a glacial synth ballad on which the realisation that a marriage will soon end is laid out painfully bare: ‘A romanticised version of it all for strangers to see/You’ve loaned it all out’.
Never sentimental but rarely without emotion, Shah’s at her best on See My Girl, an ambient piece of electronica written from the perspective of her mother as she watches her child: ‘Dressed in her leopard print and aye, her singing out of time. I am holding a note her, you hold me as I hold you.’
The real strength of Filthy Underneath lies in Shah purging her emotions to create something beautiful, punchy and totally unique, with the best vocals of her career.
Life is tough, as Nadine Shah well knows, but she also knows that light always follows dark. A truly stunning achievement.
Now, for God’s sake, someone give this woman a Bond theme.