Skunk Anansie are not playing around. How much clearer could they be about their outlook, three decades into a storied career, than to open their seventh studio album, The Painful Truth, with a song like ‘An Artist is an Artist’? It’s not just a title; it’s near enough a manifesto.
‘An Artist Is An Artist’ finds indomitable vocalist Skin biting down hard on that statement of fact, repeating it with righteous pride and venom. Age, past plaudits, and audience expectation aren’t going to cage a band that swam against a current of identikit Britpop to establish themselves as an arena-size act on their own terms. Despite the years of legwork it’s abundantly clear that Skunk Anansie aren’t here to cash cheques and play the hits.
What follows the bracing opener is an album that is both fiery and vulnerable; grounded in pain but propelled by a palpable creative spirit. TV on the Radio’s David Sitek’s production credits range from Kelis to Weezer and his deft touch allows for a blend of styles to flourish. ‘This is Not Your Life’ is a bright, danceable burst of defiance, while ‘Shame’ slows things down into a delicate, open-hearted confessional:
“I got the love from my mother / I got the pain from my dad / I got the blame from my brother / Shame, I got it bad”
The weight of the lines lingers and self-reflection on the part of the listener is left to fill the spaces in between.
There’s a freewheeling sense of exploration within the track list on The Painful Truth. The sly wit buried in the stomp of “Cheers,” with its driving guitar line and nimble drums, plays like a sarcastic anthem aimed squarely at the powers that be, or perhaps at God. ‘Shoulda Been You’ blends an opening reggae groove with indie rock attitude, crafting a hooky, melodic standout.
“The Painful Truth is proof that Skunk Anansie remain entirely relevant.”
Photo Credit: ROB O’CONNOR
‘Animal’ and ‘Fell in Love with a Girl’ explore more experimental territory, the latter anchored by a measured, synth-heavy pulse that underscores its themes of disillusionment. But it’s ‘My Greatest Moment’ that hits especially hard in the album’s tail-end, twisting a lament for youth into a declaration of self-worth and strength. It’s hard not to be floored once again by the vocal performance from the generational talent that fronts this band.
The album draws to a close with ‘Meltdown’, a track replete with deeply moving imagery. “Angels having a meltdown / in a high-rise rental uptown / now that everything comes down to / who you pray to and how loud.” The writing evokes a world where even the divine are cracking under the pressure. It’s a gorgeous, moving finale that underscores the album’s defining message: even in the face of painful truths—about time, shame, faith, and fallibility—there is always a choice; cling to your self-determination like your life depends on it.
The Painful Truth is proof that Skunk Anansie remain entirely relevant. They’re not reflecting on legacy; they’re actively building it. And they’re doing it loudly, boldly, and autonomously. Because, after all is said and done, an artist is an artist.