Queen of the earworm Ciara Mary-Alice Thompson has had quite the summer, capturing imaginations and sparking indignation. The brazen hussy has the audacity to wear what the hell she likes while belting out her stream of catchy country-pop, life-affirming hits. She’s in your face, unapologetic and going absolutely nowhere.
Little surprise, then, that in doing so she has incurred the wrath of a multitude keyboard warriors. The BBC has had to turn off live commenting during some of her festival performances. The woman has had the temerity to not follow the narrative, and not to shape herself to the stereotype by covering up what is deemed by these men to be unattractive. So they’ve gone for her.
How galling it must be for those imagination-limited defenders of what "should and shouldn’t be seen" that CMAT’s clever concoctions can’t help but get under almost everyone’s skin. Chief among this third album’s successes is the first single, "Running/Planning", a personal take on the feat of never finding the right partner at the ordained time. It’s deeply melancholic but full of grit and determination. Addressing the aforementioned haters, "Take a Sexy Picture of Me" is even more difficult to expunge from the head. Something of an anthem for the summer of 2025, its bright and bouncy tone belied the serious message about the ridiculous expectations placed on women, especially those around ageing.
She certainly has a gift for the enticing title, too. "Lord, Let That Tesla Crash’" (amen to that), "Tree Six Foive" and "Janis Joplining" all pique the interest. "The Jamie Oliver Petrol Station" (“Hmm, this is making no sense to the average listener/Let me try to explain myself in a few words”) serves not to ridicule the over-exposed, fat-tongued chef but highlight the ease with which we all channel our frustrations into an easy target. Sometimes, her meaning isn’t always obvious. The magnificent "EURO-COUNTRY", beginning with a verse in Gaelic, is all about the effects of the 2008 financial crash on a generation (“I was twelve when the das started killing themselves all around me”), and the pervasive malignancy of capitalism (“All the mooching 'round shops, and the lack of idеntity”) but still manages to swerve despair.
The rest of the album veers more towards country in both sound and structure but it’s definitely a piece of pop perfection. The symbiotic relationship of American country music and the traditional Irish from which some of its sound came is her bedrock, and she doesn’t see why you can’t have a bit of fun with it all. Watching her perform, there’s no escaping that she’s positively bursting with charisma. Like the album title, she’s FULL CAPS. The fact that she’s able to distill this onto vinyl is down to her soaring vocals and inherent humour. Her apparent fearlessness gives this work a freshness that’s a welcome antidote to the soulless "perfection" of more mainstream acts. You know who I mean.
May the road rise with her.
