Englishwoman Lily Allen makes for a well put-together bundle of contradictions: a proper, petite lass who—if her lyrical declarations are to be taken at face value—isn't afraid to swear, brawl, or look down her nose at anyone. She's no Regina Spektor or Amy Winehouse, certainly; there's a pinched, robotic thinness to her voice that would be a liability if she were in the pop game to windsurf miasmas or inhuman singing ranges. That detachedness works in her favor, though, because Allen's shtick is that of the entitled, superior snot—think of her as a smarter, self-aware, limey Lada Gaga. The thematic thrust of new album It's Not Me, It's You is that she's grown up enough to know that drugging, partying, blowing credit at fancy boutiques, and treating others like trash is bullshit—but we're betting she still does all of that stuff, with a smirk. With Natalie Portman's Shaved Head. 18+.
Sat., April 11, 7 p.m., 2009
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