Her vocals drift and glide around a devastatingly beautiful melody, lifting into delicate falsetto towards the end of each line. The title track functions as a kind of overture, succinctly encapsulating the record’s central themes: the spectres of loss, isolation, and capitalism’s lonely trail are never more than a couple of lines away. The decision to briefly return to Irish could be read in a number of ways, but it feels significant – as if Thompson is employing it as a tribute to her heritage while deliberately obscuring meaning, simultaneously masking her pain and disillusionment.
What’s certain is that, from the outset, this is a very different record to the all-conquering romp of 2023’s Crazymad, For Me and almost antithetical in tone. Perhaps not in its musicality – the familiar CMAT touchstones of country and pop rock are still somewhat intact – but where Crazymad was at times playful, even euphorically cathartic, Euro-Country is steeped in icy melancholia, brutal self-examination and aching sadness. It’s true it lacks the zippy immediacy of her previous work, yet the result is an emotionally richer collection of songs – some of her finest to date. The notable shift in tone brings to mind Father John Misty’s God’s Favourite Customer, another record that was initially harder to digest than its predecessor and adopted a more introspective approach.
This is felt most keenly during the mournful tones of “Coronation Street”. It’s one of the record’s rawest moments, where one cutting line follows another, and gentle splashes of humour soften each blow before its repeating lyrical coda takes hold: “I’m 23 and everyone is having fun except for me.” “Lord, Let That Tesla Crash” follows suit, and is similarly affecting. Lyrically dense, and buoyed by a dreamy instrumental, Thompson ruminates on the loss of a dear friend, heartbreakingly personal and tinged with regret.
The propulsive sonics of “The Jamie Oliver Petrol Station”
feel like something of an outlier, looping a krautrock-like groove for
almost five and a half minutes, culminating in dizzying, cacophonous
peaks. Lyrically, it finds Thompson reciting a surprising internalised
mantra to reverse her hatred for the titular, infamous TV chef: “So OK
don’t be a bitch / The man’s got kids / And they wouldn’t like this.” In
an age of exhaustive, unrelenting polarisation and tribal internet
discourse, such a sentiment feels not just refreshing but quietly
radical.
“Take A Sexy Picture Of Me” tackles tough subject matter
with wit and verve, delivering pop perfection in the process. Its
sharply constructed second verse has already been immortalised through a
viral TikTok dance: “I did the butcher / I did the baker / I did the
home and the family maker / I did schoolgirl fantasies / I did leg
things and hand stuff / And single woman banter / Now tell me what was
in it for me?” “When A Good Man Cries” is the closest Thompson comes to
reverting to type, but its gorgeous country-tinged hues and remarkable
vocal work are simply too difficult to resist.
Thompson’s songwriting has clearly evolved into something
more complex, demonstrating a greater will to experiment and delve into
abstraction. At times, she even abandons conventional structure – see
how the jarring opening notes of “Janis Joplining” resolve and unfurl
into its mesmeric finale. To a certain extent, Euro-Country
distances itself from her previous releases, however, the material still
remains distinctly, unmistakably CMAT. It possesses the same piercing
humour and ambitious craft while offering her most personal collection
of songs thus far. Ciara Mary-Alice Thompson may have entered a new era,
but her music has never sounded more vital.
