Compact and tightly timed albums are of no trouble, what is a concern is Tom Odell believes he has one on Black Friday. Just twenty-eight minutes of material and a few spots where “interlude” is the right word to describe a listed song, this latest from the piano rock charmer has all the fun deflated. He is in the contemporary mood and a throwback to what he has learned so far has fallen in his lap. Odell has passed the age of thirty, and it is the time for reflection after all. Black Friday does just this and has nothing to do with the commercialised holiday or drinking occasion which lands on the Friday before Christmas. It would probably make for a better listen if this glorified, nine-track EP had focused on either mentioned topic.
As it stands, the brevity with which Odell works is striking. Four interludes which strike up less than a minute each, one of which is marked as a voice note. Those moments make for better listening than the actual, fully fleshed-out songs on here. Stripped back acoustics on opener Answer Phone are to be expected. Blink and you will miss it. It’ll coast right on into Black Friday anyway, the straight-shooting attitude Odell brings to this one is to be expected. Little metaphors and brushes with individuality spring through but not all that often. Give it a second. The low hum of piano rock is on your case. Keane has already been shoved off to the side, his Love Actually single a thing of the distant past. Black Friday ends too soon though it is a hopeful kindling of the piano-oriented style Odell has so often championed.
There is a pop orientation to Black Friday which is an expected fit but never truly feels firm or convinced of itself. A forgettable midsection and the rising strings of Somebody Else do not have the short or sweet feel Odell is gunning for. Static appreciation for life in the grainy hotel rooms has a neatness to it but there is no way of escaping the rushed feel to this one. Nothing Hurts Like Love is a solid inclusion but a piece bookended by a thirty-second triviality and a half-finished and jutting extra piece, Getaway (voice note). It is a piece which is more akin to a half-finished demo than something pruned and ready for full release. Black Friday begins to feel cheap and it is a real concern Odell puts his faith in the project given how half-baked it sounds.
Gratuities are appreciated. Placidity is expected. Black Friday does nothing wrong though given how far Odell is into this piano rock phase, more would and should be desired. There is a wonderful heartbeat in Odell’s latest work and his writing but it is yet to be uncovered – Black Friday gets nowhere closer. It has a systematic and almost expressionless feel to it overall, a charmless endeavour which sometimes clicks into place just not enough to remember why it needs the energy, the air of expectation does not affect Odell. It takes far too long for Odell to realise this, but it is better late than never. Album closer The End is as on the nose and grating as it can be, the rushed feel of this never fades and makes for a tiresome, almost frustrating experience which tries to grift an emotional pull through the death of Taylor Hawkins.
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