by Lee Hazell
Born and raised in a small and suppressive mining town in South Yorkshire Alexandra Price would undertake the initial journey to performing success as a student of the famous Sylvia Young Theatre School, known for notable alumni such as Emma Bunton, Tyler James and Rita Ora. Price shared classes with the then unknown Eliza Doolittle and Billie Piper.
Today he is releasing an anthology of raucous, upbeat dance driven pop songs recorded over a five year period set against the backdrop of inner city London.
Toyboy. A Collection of Music 2005 -2010 is released in October.
See the first one here
Did you see that? Good, I’m glad you had time to gather your own opinion. Now here’s mine.
I see an awful lot of desire here but unfortunately not a lot of talent. It seems to me that the aspiration towards artistry was greater than the talent to achieve it. It’s pretentions have precious little pay off. It steeps itself in stylized camp and clichéd nostalgia, bearing more than a passing resemblance to Depeche Mode, albeit without the capacity for invention.
Both elements come off as amateurish because while it is trying so hard to come up with an identity of it’s own, it just comes off as a pale imitation of Lady Gaga. And with the attempt to emulate Lady Gaga the only thing he has successfully recreated is her flaws, the overly conventionalised athestics that look more like desperate pleas for attention than the look of a confident artist and the creative ideas that only ever seem suggested and never fully explored weakening the subtextual impact of the song.
I mean, read these lyrics “When love is in recession your heart is in depression.” The whole song is full of weak, obvious rhymes and God awful puns to do with banking. Relevant? Possibly. Elegant? Most defiantly not. The idea of the heavily themed, puntastic dance anthem was done to death two decades ago and since then the jokes surrounding them have made it impossible for any artist who uses them to be taken seriously. If the song were intended to be parody that would make this kind of hackery acceptable, sadly Mr Price seems far too into his own ideas for this to be possible.
Lastly the cherry on this stale and unpleasant cake, it seems our dear Mr. Price can’t sing. Even with the vocals mercilessly auto tuned to within an inch of their life, it is painfully obvious that Price has no business putting a microphone in front of his mouth.
And when you couple that flaw with the many others I’ve just described to you, Alexander Price has no business doing anything else in the spotlight either.