13 Adele ’25’ Lyrics That Will Make You Burst Into Tears Immediately

20 Nov 2015 | Author: | No comments yet »

Adele 25: Spotify hints ‘Hello’ singer is disappointing fans by not putting new album on streaming services.

The LP has not been put on any streaming service despite officially being released today (November 20). The thing about Adele’s insistence on tracking her emotional development in song is that after a certain point, I’ve heard more than I want to about her break-up and her make-up and her ex and whatever, and I just want to stop listening.Londoner Adele Adkins toiled over her new album “25” (out Friday), enlisting a small army of producers and songwriters, as well as drawing from figures in her personal life for inspiration.Adele’s long-awaited third album 25 has finally been released after weeks of anticipation but unfortunately, fans will not be able to listen to it on Spotify or any other streaming service.

That point arrived about two-thirds of the way through 25, during “Love the Dark”, when she sings the line “This is never-ending, we have been here before”, and it triggers an empathic response in me, though probably not the one she would have hoped for. The Oscar-winning singer’s past two records, 19 and 21, can still be streamed, but they only arrived on the services some time after hitting shelves. Admittedly, that track is the worst of a slew of plodding piano ballads that stinks up the second half of 25, including the Ryan Tedder-helmed “Remedy” and the track produced by Bruno Mars’ Smeezingtons team, “All I Ask”, in which Adele seems to be trying to jinx a relationship, apparently for the sake of one last memory. “It matters how this ends,” she frets, “’cos what if I never love again?”.

Adele scrapped an album’s worth of songs about being a mom to Angelo, explaining to Radio 1 in the UK that it was “boring.” But one song about the pleasures of parenting has remained, called “Remedy,” which she co-wrote with OneRepublic’s Ryan Tedder. “Everything I do, in every channel of my life, is part of a legacy that I’m making for my child,” she told the Observer of London. “I want my child to see his mum running a proper business.” Adele’s creative and emotional life turned upside down following the birth of her son, Angelo, in 2012. “I was so all over the place after having a child, just because my chemicals were just hitting the f–king roof,” she told Rolling Stone in October. On Adele’s 25, which came out Friday, the singer has little interest in gloating about fame or experimenting in style, instead returning to the emotional depths that have so resonated with her vast fan base.

We’re working on it and hope we can change their minds soon.” A spokesperson for the streaming service added: “We love and respect Adele, as do her 24 million fans on Spotify. But there’s a new contender in the wings, and if things go right it could upend everything conventional wisdom has been telling us about the music business. For solace and inspiration, she turned to Madge’s 1998 album, “Ray of Light.” “That’s the record Madonna wrote after having her first child, and for me, it’s her best.” On Jan. 21, 2015, the social media-shy Adele tweeted a link to a video of “How Could You Babe” by the virtually unknown singer-songwriter Tobias Jesso Jr. Adele, her soaring but soulful voice possessing the same power, retraces the memories of her working-class childhood around London as she reflects from her new, uncomfortable perch. Yet she outgrew any style or scene with the smash follow-up, 21, which presented Adele as a great crystalliser of complicated feelings, an artist writing intimately about her own life (in this case about a devastating breakup) in a way that somehow made the music feel universal.

That certainly seems possible, given the way she luxuriates in regret and recrimination: “Why do I hate the idea of being free?” she ponders in “Water Under the Bridge”, a Greg Kurstin production employing little more than a tom-tom tattoo and damped guitar figure, but which still manages to sound like the Everest of emotional melodrama. 25 plays directly to familiar expectations of indulgent heartbreak, writ billboard-large in songs like the frankly terrifying single “Hello”, where her phone-stalker pesters an old flame for the chance to meet up and “go over everything”, three words guaranteed to make a man’s blood run cold. “I’m in California dreaming of how we used to be when we were young and free,” she explains, the subtext of which is that he, poor chap, is not now and never will be free of her, as his stuffed answerphone doubtless attests. Despite — or perhaps because of — her lack of interest in modern pop-star gamesmanship, 21 also turned the proudly old-fashioned Adele into a profit centre for a struggling record industry. Just to be clear: An album from 2015, a year where album sales are in the toilet and the industry is still freaking out about how to make streaming work as a viable business model, could be the fastest-selling record ever. “Last year when Taylor Swift sold 1.3 million albums in her first week, everybody thought, ‘well that’s Taylor, she’s special, it’s her first pop record, she’s reaching a broader audience than ever,’” says David Bakula, senior vice president of industry insights for Nielsen Entertainment. “Lo and behold, along comes Adele.

For when Adele wants to rake over old ground, she employs the kind of industrial-sized harrow they use in The Archers, and that ground stays well and truly raked. It’s one thing to talk about a million in sales, but just to know that people are actually mentioning [the sales record], it’s crazy.” Wednesday, Billboard cited “insiders” who relayed that “Sony is projecting first-week CD sales of 1.5 million” which could pair with about 1 million in digital sales, 900,000 at Apple. iTunes has taken 450,000 digital preorders, while Amazon has pre-sold 100,000 physical and digital copies. Take “Send My Love (To Your New Lover)”, where she wields sarcasm with childish spite in the album’s most musically interesting song – a genuine oddity by both her standards and those of Swedish hit-machine Max Martin & Shellback. Taylor Swift pulled her entire repertoire from Spotify last year, claiming it devalued her music by streaming it for free, before reaching a deal with Apple Music to stream bestselling album 1989 after persuading them to pay royalties during the three-month free trial period.

That puts 25 in the realm of 2.5 million copies—just over the record-setting 2.415 million copies NSYNC’s No Strings Attached sold back in March 2000, before the digital music revolution destroyed the foundation of physical sales. With only her sparse guitar the only instrument apart from Shellback’s simple drum programme, the focus is squarely on Adele’s vocal chops, with her quirky lead line supported by ingeniously arranged banks of her own backing harmonies and counterpoints, in an infectious arrangement aptly akin to a playground skipping-song. Her vocals are clearly the central matter of 25, as they should be, both in deft little touches like the final title-phrase of “Remedy”, and majestic layered chorales like that on the moody, Danger Mouse-produced “River Lea”, in which the organ and the huge, cavernous echoing reverb fall away just before the end, to reveal her meticulously interlaced harmonies in open view, like an acappella blueprint of the song, or a medical diagram of vocal musculature. The company published a long blog post aimed at tempting Swift back. “Artists have an absolute right to be paid for their work and protected from piracy,” it read. “That’s why we pay nearly 70 per cent of our revenue back to the music community.” Both Adele and Taylor Swift have been described as outliers in the music industry because their huge popularity means they need not rely on streaming services to boost sales. “Adele arguably needs streaming services less than any previous holdouts,” an industry source told Billboard. “She could release her album on cassette only and it would still be the biggest selling album of the year.” But the song’s enthusiastic embrace only underscored the other, more pressing demand on the singer as she returns: that her music still provide its trademark catharsis.

But it’s not quite as startling as the Kurstin-produced “Million Years Ago”, for which he close-mics her voice so much it’s almost as if she’s inside your head, with just his acoustic guitar and her wordless, melismatic vocal flourishes for company. Let him know I’m over it.” “I think [the song] is yearning for simpler times,” he tells The Post. “Having a front-row seat when she’s singing to you is unreal — she has a great way of emoting.

She is not known to shake her body on stage or trash hotel rooms and is marking Friday’s release by singing at Joe’s Pub, a cozy club in New York’s Greenwich Village. There’s only one Madonna.” Adele also denied turning down a collaboration with Beyoncé, saying: “There’s a rumour going round that I turned Beyoncé down. But while the recurrent obsession with former love affairs and setting ancient issues straight grows wearisome well before the album’s close, it could have been far worse.

And they get a worthy batch on 25, an album so full of heavy-duty drama that it makes a more lighthearted peer such as Katy Perry seem like a Pez dispenser. The final track, “Sweetest Devotion”, ends with a tiny sliver of what appears to be a very young child’s voice – suggesting the devotion is directed primarily at Adele’s son. You don’t run across a voice like that very often, so I tried to preserve it.” “25” would have sounded completely different were it not for Rick Rubin (a trusted collaborator from the “21” sessions). Over tolling piano chords that swell to an echoing throb, she’s reaching out to apologise to an ex in Hello — then realising when he won’t take her call that she cares about him more than she thought.

And rest assured that the title of I Miss You doesn’t oversell the song’s emotional payload. “Pull me in, hold me tight,” she sings, her voice thick with desire as Paul Epworth’s drums boom like cannons around her, “Don’t let go / Baby, give me life.” Even as it fulfills those expressive requirements, 25 expands the scope of Adele’s music, taking up new themes and textures. There are songs about her life as a mother, including the buoyant, shuffling Sweetest Devotion and Remedy, in which she promises her child, “No river is too wide or too deep for me to swim to you.” It’s a well-worn lyrical idea refreshed by the ugly-cry intensity of her singing. This album is being treated as a music industry messiah rescuing retailers everywhere, from independent record stores to big-box chains like Target—who have an exclusive edition that includes seven music videos. “Every time we see a change in the way music is consumed, people automatically just abandon the thought that albums could ever sell that quantity again,” Bakula says. “And then invariably a record comes out that completely blows away anything we thought could happen.” But not everyone sees this as a unique victory. “I highly doubt that she’ll reach NSYNC’s sales plateau,” says Bob Lefsetz, author of influential music-industry blog The Lefsetz Letter. “But even if she meets it, who cares?

Like Swift, Adele has stayed at a small independent label — in Adele’s case, London-based XL Recordings — that allowed her to keep strong editorial control. That would be like counting how many phones Palm or Nokia sold, or how many floppy discs were sold.” To Lefsetz, the giant marketing push and sales frenzy around 25 represents a stark contrast to 21‘s long-tail success (30 million copies sold worldwide since 2011) and lasting cultural impact: “It’s pent-up demand. [Her] previous album was a step better than everything else in the marketplace.

Here she’s over the pain but can’t resist poking a bit of fun at the guy, stretching out the word “lover” so that it sounds like she’s mocking him — especially as set against the tick-tock groove by Max Martin and Shellback, Swedish hitmakers known for getting a similar effect with Taylor Swift. This is a complete 180.” This week’s Billboard chart saw a new-album showdown between One Direction and Justin Bieber, with the victor to be announced later today.

On River Lea, Adele sees the Greater London waterway as a metaphor for childhood insecurities, yet she struggles to break free. “I can’t go back,” she sings, “but the reeds are growing out of my fingertips.” Those are two of Adele’s new collaborators on 25, along with Greg Kurstin, who brings an ’80s-R&B vibe to Water Under the Bridge, and Danger Mouse, who sets River Lea adrift in waves of his signature organ haze. Granted, a few outlier successes can’t save the whole industry—but 25 is the first straightaway industry success story to come along in a decade that doesn’t feel artificially trumped up to compete with the record-setting numbers of a pre-digital era.

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