Album Review: I’m Gorgeous

Capital based musician Michael Llewellyn has just put out his second release.

And I’ll be honest and say I was obviously asleep when the debut Oh My Darling dropped back in 2021.

There’s a back story, pardon the pun, to how music found him a few years back when Llewellyn was literally laid up by a crippling condition that impacted his ability to move, confining him to a bed. It was then that he learned guitar, on a 40-year-old model belonging to his father, one he still plays today. And that eventually led to material for his debut. From there, the album was toured with a full band, The Darlings, winning the hearts of the motu and earning constant plays on student radio. How did I miss all this?

But we’re here now, for the new effort. I’m Gorgeous began life as song sketches about five years ago, Llewellyn told media, recording demos and rehearsing at various family beach batches up and down the coast. One belonged to his own family. Around this time his mother was diagnosed with cancer. When he spoke on National Radio recently Llewellyn said that when the band congregated to rehearse, sometimes it felt like somebody was missing. So, knowing there’s a strong connection to whanau alive and lost makes tracks like the deliciously grooving Home Sometime even more special.

Listening fresh, without knowing any of the above I was struck by the maturity and brilliance of the writing. Llewellyn’s voice and phrasing is incredibly compelling, as if he was a star already (And I think he should be, btw).

Also quite special, I think, is the opener The Red Shoes / Bring Me Water, which contains its own disturbing kitchen sink epic. Unmistakable, are Llewellyn’s murmured, swaggering accusations. He savours the irony. Like a devil smiling on downtrodden masses. Blaming them as they abandon their aspirations to the endless work week grind. “You say you used like to be a painter / but you threw all your colours to the ground / and now you go out chasing pots and pans like a little dog lost and found”.

The song has a beautiful narrative arch and an infectious stomping, provocative cabaret vibe and beat, which reminded me a little of The Triffids’ classic album The Black Swan (1989).

So, it goes. Then just when you’ve got into the first half, the track changes, layering up in a spinetingling chorus chant Bring Me Water, provided by Michael Llewellyn’s partner Isabella Smith. A real asset to the song, and the album, I daresay.

In the music and his vocals, there was resonance with some of my favourite, like Matt Johnson (The The), Steve Kilbey (The Church) or even Barry Adamson (Nick Cave & The Black Seeds).

There are some literally gorgeous campfire sing-songs hiding here, too. Like In Ways, which is carried mainly by vocals, a repeating piano line and some simple acoustic guitar.

Then there’s the sombre, brooding waltz of Down By The Packs. Llewellyn squeezes out every ounce of juice from each note in a long drawl, rounding each line with a sexy, breathy, curling growl.

The song’s buoyed by a chorus that’s crying out for a full scale choir treatment. If that happens, be prepared for marble sized goose pimples. But even on this recorded version the hairs on the back of my neck were standing to attention.

By complete contrast, the Cramps-esque grungy-ness of The Fish Song comes like a mullet-blow to the face. The dirty, dirty baseline doesn’t only make the hairs stand on the back of your neck. It marches them down the road at double quick time. There are splashes of Morphine and Cave in here but ultimately this beast is Llewellyn’s alone to tame. You’ll need more than a whip and chair to get your ears around this one.

He takes a detour with The Lock, which initially feels like a foolish leftover cut from a the album. But just when you’ve got it pegged as such it morphs into a dangerous streets sway with mournful Rhodes keyboards that create a bit of Nick Cave gothic drama towards the ending.

With its dinky drum track backing, Stalin could easily be just a bit of a demo thrown on to flesh out the numbers. Yet, like all the tracks here, there’s great care to create a mood for every song that is a layer cake of audio snips and atmospheres.

I’m guessing that live, Marmalade Honey will be a popular choice. It’s a simple but beautiful, dreamy ballad, where the whole band has their lighters out and are swaying to and fro.

The title track finally appears towards the end of the album. More Adamson/Cave style dark storytelling as the song starts with a hymnal chord and the lines “I’m Gorgeous, well that’s what she said to me / Just before she shot me, shot me down / shot me dead / I’m pretty/well that’s what she wished for me just she pushed me, pushed me down, pushed me dead.”

You can see where this is going. “And now I’m so lonely / I’ve been a fool; I’ve been the man behind the mask”. I feel this is a breakup song but is there more to this brooding number. Future listening may revel yet more layers.

I said before a choir would be a handy addition. And guess what? I got my wish. So, the Avondale Intermediate Choir helps to complete the album’s closer, Pray For Rain. This song is a sum of all the above parts and is utterly brilliant. If the APA’s need a track to finish their awards next year, call in this one. It has all the drama, I think. It has a feel-good flavour, delivering a message of hope through a collective purpose. It will get the whole assembly up on its feet.

Lyrically, there’s no doubt he delivers with poetic flourishes at times, straight forward and literal in others.

Musically, he’s got variety and reach. And that sultry voice is so utterly cool. Man, what an asset!

Llewellyn is the gem I’ve only just discovered. Where’s he been hiding. He’s all my heroes in one package, not only those I’ve mentioned but a bit of Paul Kelly troubadour and Neil Finn provenance to boot.

And he’s got an amazing crew behind him, too. Partner Isabella Smith (backing vocals), James Morgan (guitar), Reuben Topzand (keyboards), Henry Smithers (bass), Josh Dominikovich (drums), Nick Jones (violin), Conor Feehly (Percussion) and Edward Mee (Trumpet).

And full credit goes to the production team for a lush, vibrant and often granulated sound, thanks to Paddy Hill (producer and mixer) at Roundhead Studios and master-maker Kelly Hibbert at Almachrome in LA.

This is an album that deserves multiple listens, digging deeper to find even more treasures with each play.

It’ll be interesting to see how that translates live when he takes an upcoming nationwide and sharing the stage with the ever-popular French For Rabbits for some gigs.