It would be unforgivably churlish and conceited of me to dismiss ‘Irish Jazz-a-Billy Sensation’ Imelda May simply on account of her being lauded by the terminally bland and increasingly irrelevant ivory tickler, Jools Holland – but that’s the kind of stock she comes from: those with one ear to the ground and one hand on their Starbucks Macchiato. It’s as if this slurring, sultry chanteuse with the fifties hair-do and the leopard skin vest has practically been invoked by sweaty corpulent café dwellers worldwide, such is the safe and stylised hokum of her faux-jazz croonery. Kitted out with lounge ‘effect’ double-basses, high octave pianos and no end of sassy time-signatures, it presses all the right buttons for those prepared to humour May’s rootsy skulduggery and the will of a dozen or so musicians to breathe fresh life into songs that could (and perhaps should) have been written sixty-years ago. That said, there’s no shortage of foot-stomping, shirt-ripping pleasure to be had by signature tracks like, ‘Johnny Got A Boom Boom’ and even the glimpse of something almost contemporary in the smooth, silky strokes of ‘Knock 173’.
Winner of the Best Newcomer at the Irish Music Awards, Imedla has been touring with the likes of Jools Holland and Van Morrison.
A bit like Norah Jones in leathers and with a big greasy, quiff.