South African starlet Genevieve Waite is a riot of eccentricity on her 1 and only album Romance Is On The Rise; her sultry allure presents an untampered raggedly elegant style that is effortlessly charming like a telling hic-up of gin bubbles. As on the sun-soaked bonus track Pink Gin & Lime, her drowsy drawl (a shredded, expressive rasp) and whimsical clasp of daft kitsch is sharper than the heels she stumbles in as her stories slide into dreamy stupors ("pink gin & lime for a fake ballerina, out of her mind from sniffin' dry cleaner" is the helium highlight here) . Piano keys are pervasively pressed as if rippling a pool of champagne, but trip over themselves on the jaunty Times of Love, which stumbles merrily - Waite's weightless orgasm of infatuation chuckles she hasn't left the house for days (does she use gaydar too?). The trumpeting Slumming On Park Avenue could be an alcoholic Mary Poppins "sniffing everything in sight" with its giddy glee intermission feel, whilst the self-assured jazzy show tune Biting My Nails catches the jiving songbird in the act.
Her wide-eyed carnage is hushed into a sweetly yawning torch ballad on American Man On The Moon where her ponderous crooning sounds delicately overcome like a jewellery box ballerina gently winding down. Elsewhere there is the soft strum of the nose-blowing ballad Saying Goodbye, the chic disco drive-thru of White Cadillac, Those Trashy Rumours moves slower and the dried up tears of Danny. The stifled resignation of Girls offers her breezy humour more wickedly straight moments: "girls are running 'round in your head, you'll wish you liked boys instead." Her often poignant elixir of tender innocence and indulgent decadence equips her perfectly to cover Velvet Underground's Femme Fatale, wherein the casual lyric "hear the way she talks" could have been especially tailored for the beguiling chanteuse. Waite's infectious insouciance creates a dainty scenery littered with lyrical quips and campy flourishes of flagrant truth. With each listen, her perky entertainment of spirited flamboyance and smirking ceremony is never remotely diminished.
Pink Gin & Lime
Times of Love