Robbie Williams ‘Britpop’ review: A rollicking love letter to the 90s
On his thirteenth album, Robbie Williams sounds like he's having the most fun he's had in years.
By Nick Reilly
By Robbie Williams’ own admission, his 13th studio album sees the national institution and now firmly mellowed hellraiser offer up the sound he wishes he had released upon notoriously leaving Take That in 1995. He’s bigged up the fact that guitar god Tony Iommi makes an explosive cameo on the lead single ‘Rocket’, while claiming it to be “raw – there are more guitars and it’s even more upbeat and anthemic than usual.”
All of this is true, and the result is a record which sees Robbie sounding more liberated and delivering some of his best songs in years. It’s unrepentantly mad, as illustrated by the swirling guitars on ‘Rocket’, but this constant sense of unpredictability is a strength. Here’s Robbie leaning into what he’s always done best: not giving a fuck and dancing to the beat of his own drum.
On ‘Spies’, he offers a swaggering, guitar-driven anthem that shares sonic DNA with fan-favourite ‘Monsoon’, but it touchingly comes from the perspec-tive of this zen family man reflecting on a misspent youth. “We used to stay up all night / Thinking we were all spies / Praying that tomorrow won’t come,” comes Robbie’s salvo on the chorus.
Elsewhere, the bolshy edge of ‘Cocky’ sees him boast that “you get to talk to Jesus, I get to talk to God” and – funnily enough – offers a bold guitar line which doesn’t sound a million miles away from Depeche Mode’s ‘Personal Jesus’. He’s yet to confirm if he’s started a war of words with the 80s icons, but it’s something we’d certainly be here for.
If you thought that was weird, you haven’t heard anything until encountering ‘Morrissey’, which sees Robbie team up with old pal/sparring partner Gary Barlow for a song written from the perspective of someone who is “completely obsessed and in love” with The Smiths icon, so takes to stalking him. It’s ironic, then, that this maddest of premises actually turns out to be one of the record’s best songs – a glittering synth pop banger indebted to Erasure.
And by the time things wrap up with ‘Bite Your Tongue’ (let’s conveniently ignore ‘Desire’, the misfiring FIFA anthem which closes the record), Robbie’s talk of guitars and anthems has largely rung true. It’s unrepentantly bonkers and will do little to win over his detractors, but who cares when the rest of us are having this much fun? NICK REILLY