SKUNK ANANSIE: The Painful Truth (ROCK): review / opinion to read on Music Waves

Nine years. That's how long it took Skunk Anansie to return to the studio - but not to rehash the past. “The Painful Truth” is neither a nostalgic return nor a simple continuation. It's an album of rupture. A deliberate, chosen break. Skin has made it clear: if the band didn't come back with a project that went further, higher, truer, it would be better not to come back at all. This strong artistic stance permeates the whole album, from the first note to the last exhale.

And that first note is ‘An Artist Is An Artist’, an ironic, lucid, declaration of independence in the face of a music industry that crushes authenticity in favor of the algorithm. A nervous riff, a haunting bass, a biting, proud Skin: the identity is established from the outset. This track, like others on the album, rejects comfort and posturing. It questions the role of the artist in the age of buzz, while asserting total freedom. Skunk Anansie doesn't want to “do modern”, it wants to do the right thing.

Musically, the band explores without straying. Raw energy rubs shoulders with new, more abstract textures, sometimes industrial (‘Animal’), sometimes groovy and disarming (‘Shoulda Been You’). It's not a sonic revolution, but a densification. A kind of powerful purity. Under the guidance of David Sitek (TV On The Radio), the sound gains in complexity, contrast and relief. The band seem to have voluntarily stripped themselves bare, recording far from the city on a farm in Devon, where the silence and isolation allowed the essential to rise to the surface.

And the essence of Skunk Anansie is Skin. Her voice remains a miracle of balance between raw strength and naked emotion. It attacks, withdraws, rumbles, bursts and fades. It gives substance to the “painful truth” referred to in the title, which runs through the whole album. In ‘Can't Take You Anywhere’, it slams like a slap in the face. In ‘Meltdown’, she slowly withdraws, leaving a poignant void, like a raw wound. Few performers today can boast such a vocal presence, at once earthy and spectral.

But beyond the songs, it's the spirit of this album that stands out. Thirty years into their career, Skunk Anansie have nothing left to prove. And that's undoubtedly what makes this album so free. You can feel the renewed pleasure of playing together, the desire to do things differently, the need to surprise yourself. The project almost didn't see the light of day, and it's perhaps this surge - intimate, fragile, vital - that gives it its particular tension. Cass Lewis' personal background, discreet but present in the background (he was composing while undergoing chemotherapy), is not brought to the fore, but it undoubtedly lends the album this gentle gravity, this skin-deep sincerity. Nothing is overplayed here, everything is at human level.

“The Painful Truth” is not just another album: it's a work of conviction. Deeply sincere, courageously uncomfortable, viscerally human. Skunk Anansie sounds more alive than ever - because it's no longer trying to convince. Just to say. And to touch. - Official website

SKUNK ANANSIE

THE PAINFUL TRUTH

FRONTIERS RECORDS

ROCK