Kelly Clarkson. That’s who I kept thinking of while writing down my thoughts on Champion, the new album from Bishop Briggs*. Stronger and all that. I don’t think Briggs aspires quite to that level of anthemic self-restoration; Champion isn’t anywhere near that overdetermined**.
It is a little jumbled, which, sure, tell me that I’m reaching. Picking the wrong song to give your album its face and its identity seems like a more or less victimless crime. But first impressions are everything! You eat with your eyes before you eat with your face-hole, and you listen with your eyes before you listen with your listening holes. I genuinely think I would have taken Champion differently with a little bit of track list and title restructuring. Weird, but there it is.
And regardless, I liked it all the same. You can read my full review over at Paste Magazine.
*Still can’t get over how much her chosen moniker invokes the image of a person in a duster coat whupping men’s asses in a grainy old Western.
**But hey, no, “Stronger” still rocks.
A Constant Visual Feast 