Soul music is finding a bit of a revival these days, and the blonde, slightly beehived Duffy takes up many of the same sounds as those who have walked before her. The Wales native’s debut album, Rockferry, functions like a ’60s time capsule, stirring up memories of Nancy Sinatra, Roy Orbison and The Supremes. A bit of an influential hodgepodge, yes, but most of Duffy’s songs are characterized by a fusion of layered strings, dreamy background vocals and the ever-so-important funk factor. Like the textured echo’s of the electric guitar riffs in songs like “Distant Dreamer,” her record pays homage to the past, but would still find a happy home on any sort of Love, Actually/Bridget Jones romantic-comedy soundtrack.
Rockferry moves smoothly from track to track, each song flowing into the next with the gritty-sweet tonality of Duffy’s voice. Songs like the title track and “Syrup and Honey” display her solid range and vocal versatility even when stripped down to the backdrop of a few simple instruments.
Unfortunately, its during these rather naked moments where the album falters, mostly because Duffy’s robust voice often overmatches the music that surrounds it. Aside from the hip-swinging “Mercy,” the U.K. vocalist consistently overpowers her repertoire of mostly slow-paced instrumental backing. Much of Rockferry simply feels as if some major musical component was tailored to, but then never refitted for, Duffy’s full-bodied pipes.