If we could choose one one song to eradicate from the 2014 memory-banks, there’s no doubt that we’d choose Meghan Trainor‘s ‘All About That Bass‘. What could’ve been a fairly innocuous doo-wopping ditty about loving yourself because ‘every inch of you is perfect’ turned into something so much more toxic: a saccarine earworm that you were likely to hear once a day and, to top it all off, it became a talking point in its’ own right when it tackled the idea of the body shaming ‘bass‘ girls receive whilst at the same time body shaming ‘skinny bitches‘.
I, like many, dismissed Trainor has a one-hit wonder. And this debut-but-not-really-a-debut album, Title, does little to convince me otherwise. Despite containing 11 tracks, actually does feel like the same formula from ‘All About That Bass‘ repeated over and over with slight variations. Put it this way, the album is like looking through the ‘diverse‘ range of pinks in a Dulux paint swatch.
So unless you like your pop-music served with kitsch doo-wopping, plenty of formulaic balladry and as much thinly disguised sexual imagery as Sony has deemed okay to sell to twelve year olds in varying shades of pink– don’t even bother with Title.
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