Amanda Blank is a bad ass. She’s like the male version of Gwen Stefani —tough and sexy yet vulnerable, but with balls to spare. Sure, describing Blank’s sound is like listing off modern female button-pushers—unmelodic Lily Allen, suburban Missy Elliott, Peaches with a little less cream—but when you’re having this much fun listening to her record, who cares that she could stand to dial up the originality? On I Love You Blank delivers her put-downs with venom and heart, and you won’t doubt her sincerity when she goes from a 3 a.m. don’t-fuck-with-me club swagger to the admission that she wants to settle down with the love of her life even though she knows karma is a bitch.
What Blank has created is a record that can carry you through the game, a nasty girl’s night out, knocking back losers who think you’re a kindred spirit and looking in the mirror and wondering if you are. The beats will keep you unconsciously moving your body in time, and the lyrics will keep you nodding your head in agreement. In a way, it’s an anthem record. It’s also a testament to figuring yourself out.
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