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Bedroom balladry by a real fan
By David Smyth, Evening Standard 

Having earned Emmy and Golden Globe nominations for her starring role as a trailer trash con artist in excellent recent TV series The Riches, Minnie Driver may no longer be A-list but is still popular enough not to need to sing in tiny theatres like this one. This week’s low-key launch of her second solo album, Seastories, suggests she is making music out of a genuine love for it.

There was a fan’s enthusiasm in her slow-burning covers of Waterloo Sunset and Stevie Wonder’s Masterblaster (Jammin’), and her tale of an aborted attempt to get alt-country bad boy Ryan Adams to produce her latest. “I wouldn’t have him produce a cup of tea,” she concluded here.

Her original songs lacked the spark of her heroes, their unvarying languorous pace making for a soporific evening in the sticky heat. It was bedroom balladry, nice but unremarkable, though the livelier strum of Mockingbird had a touch of KT Tunstall about it.

Backed by just two guitars and double bass, her voice was exposed. It was pretty and held the melodies well but lacked any distinctive characteristics.

As she sang, she patted the bump that is more fascinating to the public than her music. Six months pregnant, she won’t reveal anything about the father except that he is English. She dedicated Ruby Adeline to “anyone who’s been knocked up”. It was pretty but she’s still far more likely to grace the gossip columns than the charts.