Stevie Parker - The Cure

The Guardian 80

(Virgin EMI)
The Bristol-based singer makes a virtue of misery on this highly promising break-up album

There should be a mutual support organisation for those exes who are the subjects of famous heartbreak albums. Oh, to be a fly on the wall if Adele’s ex (aka “Mr 21”) broke bread with the object of Sam Smith’s unrequited affections, (aka “Mr Lonely Hour”). It would be quite the gathering, if you included people like Britney Spears (the object of Justin Timberlake’s Justified LP) or the line-up of Abba.

If it all goes to plan, Stevie Parker’s errant former girlfriend could end up sitting in a corner at this theoretical get-together, a little agog. Parker’s debut – mostly about this one ex – is one of those idiosyncratic British heartbreak albums that has the potential to go far.

Related: Stevie Parker: ‘Everyone is ultimately scared of oblivion’

The Guardian 60

(Virgin)

If you’re a young British woman with a haunting vocal style, a penchant for stripped-back pop and no record deal, then you’re probably the only one. This icy, strangely monochrome-sounding take on pop is enjoying a purple patch, and Stevie Parker is the latest to throw her tasteful and understated hat in the ring. Her debut is an incredibly restrained album, nodding to the driving, infectious melodies and rousing choruses of the chart without ever getting that near to reproducing them. The end product isn’t exactly riveting, with the stream of pleasant moments – the shimmering rock on This Ain’t Right; the lovely vocal acrobatics on Stay, perhaps the world’s classiest and most composed account of murderous desire – never quite adding up to anything tangible. All the zeitgeisty signifiers are there, but The Cure doesn’t quite work.