Few bands have been as influential, as confrontational, and as articulate as Skunk Anansie. One of those rare bands who have somehow managed to straddle the worlds of rock and metal, appealing to the latter crowd more because of their unflinching honesty and powerful performances than because of any specifically metallic elements in their sound, Skunk Anansie truly exist in a crowd of one, and it is with no small excitement that fans greeted news of their latest album – their first in nine years.
The band’s seventh album overall, The Painful Truth follows in the footsteps of 2016’s Anarchytecture – an album that seemed to confuse critics upon release but which, over time, has earned a more favourable reputation. As with its predecessor, The Painful Truth finds the band exploring a the fringes of their influences, with the guitars more often used for texture than direct attack. However, with Skin delivering some of her most personal lyrics to date and the band exploring hitherto untested sonic territory, the album captures a snapshot of the band as they are now – older, wiser, yet still defiant in the face of adversity.
Opening with An Artist Is An Artist, The Painful Truth finds Skunk Anansie indulging in an artful mix of indie and post-punk as Skin deftly tackles the vexed topic of ageism – something recently brought to the fore by Garbage’s scathing Chinese Fire Horse. It’s an engaging opening track, the band slowly ramping up the tension as Skin’s delivery becomes increasingly forceful, and it packs a hell of a gut punch in the chorus. In contrast, This Is Not Your Life deftly introduces the sort of electronic elements that powered the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ sonic evolution, with Skunk Anansie proving equally adept. With an infectiously funky groove and irresistible chorus, it finds the band exploring a very different sonic landscape, while sacrificing none of the depth, power, or integrity of their content. As if to prove that point, the band follow up with the gorgeous Shame. A stunning, slow-burning piece of music that melds trip hop and art rock, it finds Skin exploring that queasy sense of being alienated from your own family, and her delivery is as impassioned as it is heart breaking.
With Skunk Anansie continuing to explore and evolve, the stunning Lost And Found finds Skin singing the opening bars a cappella before the band neatly shift from quirky pop to hard-edged rock and back in the blink of an eye. A dynamic and imaginative track with impressive performances from all involved and Skin in particular, it is another example of just how mercurial the band can be. The first half of the album wraps up with Cheers, which ditches the expansive production for the wiry post-punk of the opening track. With Skin’s stabbing vocal and Richard Lewis’ grinding bass, it’s a tough piece that leads to an explosive chorus.
With the album racing past, the second half opens with the whimsical dub-rock of Shoulda Been You, which packs in a slinky bassline, weird synth effects, and a typically excellent vocal. Imagine No Doubt jamming with The Clash and Aphex Twin and it’ll give you some idea of the weirdly wonderful world Skunk Anansie now inhabit. It’s followed by the dirty electronica of Animal, a track at least on passing terms with both Prodigy and Iggy Pop, Skin’s vocal prowling the perimeter as swathes of synth hammer the eardrums.
The band opt to strike off in a different direction once again on Fell In Love, arguably one of the greatest pop songs the band have ever penned, and if the chorus doesn’t lodge itself deep within your cranium, then you’re simply not paying attention. Skyscraping pop remains the order of the day on My Greatest Moment, a track which recalls the ambitious electronica of the Pumpkins’ recent output, even as the vocal nods to Supertramp in the way it trips over a childlike melody. It leaves the gentle ballad, Meltdown, to bring things to an end. A gorgeous torch song, it finds Skin once again alone – this time seated at the piano – delivering a heartfelt and beautiful coda to a record that haunts the listener long after it has wound down.
A remarkable album from a remarkable band, The Painful Truth finds Skunk Anansie exploring the farthest reaches of their influences and delivering a stunning piece of work in the process. Anchored by Skin’s always amazing vocals, it is an album that whispers its rage, detailing the wealth of emotions that so often threaten to overwhelm as we age. Varied but endlessly engaging, The Painful Truth is another strong entry in Skunk Anansie’s storied canon. 9/10
