Marcus Collins – Marcus Collins

by Twelve Eva Street

I do not watch the X Factor. That is not because I’m an anti-conformist hipster dickhead who wants to be different. It is because I don’t own a television. And that is what makes me a hipster dickhead who wants to be different.

Okay, it’s actually because I’m poor and lazy. I have watched the X Factor in the past, and along with the rest of this jolly little island, my favourite part is undoubtedly the auditions in the preliminary shows – watching Derek, 35, from Wigan get lambasted by the purposefully pitiless judges for his nasal rendition of Lionel Richie’s “Hello” is solid gold entertainment for a quiet Saturday night in. When it gets to the live rounds, however, and the horde of okay singers becomes a tight clique of great singers, I generally lose interest and melt back into my rock-n-roll fuelled haze somewhere dingy and smoke-filled.

My sparse research on Collins illuminated that he came runner-up on the most recent (UK) series of the X Factor, losing out to Little Mix, a girl group I had heard of and held in no high esteem. What did that mean for this venture? Would he be categorically worse, or would it be a classic case of the British public not knowing talent if it warbled a high C in their faces? A brief check of the songs he covered on the programme lifted my spirits – stellar tracks such as “My Girl”, “Superstition” and “Higher & Higher” peppered the list, and “Hey Ya” by OutKast, ever a favourite of mine, encouraged me to keep a clear mind.

The first track and recently-released single from Collins’ eponymous album is a cover of the classic Jack White riff-and-solo-fest “Seven Nation Army”, something that could be considered a very dangerous gamble for an R&B artist on their first recording. Indeed, it starts weakly; a muted bass riff with a wandering, slightly cheesy organ, retaining none of the suave class of the original. Collins’ opening vocals are smooth and clean, in complete juxtaposition to White’s raucous shriek – but suddenly backing vocals have kicked in, and drums cascade from seemingly nowhere, and I find I’m quite enjoying myself. It’s not a particularly powerful cover, as covers go, but it hones in on Collins’ personal style and adapts it to that, rather than forcing him to effect to The White Stripes’ far more jagged persona.

The entire album is steeped in a heavy motown and 60s soul vibe, and it is entirely unclear whether this is Collins’ own charisma or the combined talents of Matt Furmidge and Brian Rawling, who seem to take the wheel on the production side of things. Certainly, Collins does have a certain charm that makes this a very likeable album to listen to, and it is hugely encouraging to note his abundance of writing credits on the vast majority of the original material on this album. This is especially noteworthy due to the frequency of manufactured pop stars churned out by shows like this, who are dressed up as plastic puppets pushing music and ideals that are not their own.

The original music aspect is also praiseworthy – of the eleven-track LP, only three are cover songs, another tactic often used by X Factor graduates being hounded by the record company to put out a release as soon as possible. Apart from the aforementioned alpha-track, the other two are “Higher & Higher”, a song Collins performed as his “favourite performance” on the show, and a cover of “Tightrope” by Janelle Monáe, a song I will admit to having never heard of but which was released in only 2010. Even these, however, have been tailored to fit the style and tempo of what is a very upbeat album in its entirety; “Higher and Higher” has barely been changed, but on speculation, that is perhaps the best way Collins could have done it.

Tracks such as “That’s Just Life” with its doo-wop pop hook and “Love & Hate” are the stand-out songs, joys to listen to which hearken back to ages past, and suit Collins’ vocals perfectly. I feel loathe to make so many motown comparisons, but one cannot help but pick up a heavy debt to such artists as The Isley Brothers and Marvin Gaye throughout the course of Marcus Collins, and the singer seems to have found his ideal rhythm very quickly after finding fame. It can be said that the whole affair doesn’t exactly change speed, but it knows what it is trying to do, and is remarkably solid for a first album.

“Tightrope” is perhaps the weakest effort to speak of, its quick-rapping style sitting uncomfortably in the midst of crooning soul songs, and it could easily have been left off the album for a modest ten-song play. “It’s Time” is a far more modern piece than the rest, slotting more into the “RnB” category than “soul”, and sounding confusingly like a late Backstreet Boys number. As the album matures, so does the sound, and tracks such as “Feel Like I Feel” have a more funk- and disco-orientated 70s vibe than the previous half, but Collins’ voice sounds a little strained, and his vocals are far more confident on the lower, slower songs.

As a self-confessed rock-n-roller, I feel like I should stop being surprised at liking albums such as this. Collins’ release shares the same roots that much rock music does, in the Detroit sound of the 1960s, and his style is infectiously finger-clicky, for want of a less juvenile way of putting it. Despite a weak intro, the album is catchy and refreshing after the veritable electronic dirge that is currently stewing in the charts, and although the first half is definitely the stronger, the album overall is a pleasingly wholesome effort. Collins’ success may clearly be riding on the success of the soul scene in the past few years, with trailblazers like the late Amy Winehouse, and Plan B’s sterling Defamation of Strickland Banks, but RCA have cleverly inserted him into a niche which has been quiet for months. This album, perfectly geared up for the rapidly onrushing summer, should be a big hit.

Now, I know that rock music is probably past its prime as chart-topping material, especially with the tastes of the 21st Century. But if music like this can get big again, then that’s a fair compromise. I’ll accept that.