Elles Bailey ‘Cant Take My Story Away’ album review “At a career apex, Elles Bailey rips up the rulebook and goes back to the start”

After an incredible last album that offered plenty of surprises, ‘Beneath the Neon Glow’ proved that Elles Bailey wasn’t content with a blues-Americana tag. As a proudly independent artist, she tussled her way to #12 in the UK album charts, rubbing shoulders with the Premier League of pop. With that release, a career that was already doing pretty well snowballed: more awards, support slots with Rag’n’Bone Man, and a Glastonbury appearance among the highlights.

As the luminescence fades and a new musical era beckons, the question has to be asked: after such a career high, where does she go next? Well, like all the best artists, when they reach an apex, they rip up the rulebook and go back to the start.

‘Can’t Take My Story Away’ is a personal scrapbook, three years in the making, with songs that in some cases trace their origins back much further. Bailey has temporarily changed her band, shifted her sound, and pushed her voice in ways that were previously only hinted at.

Elles has always been an open and expressive songwriter, yet here the songs alternate between bold, brassy showpieces and moments so intimate they feel almost intrusive to listen to. Stylistically, the album shares DNA with her previous work: roots rock, country, and folk-tinged Americana are still present. But where brass was once merely suggested, this time she goes all in.

The album unfurls with a wall of horns. It’s deliciously vintage, with Elles’ distinctive rasp leading the charge on the title track. With arrangements like this — courtesy of producer Luke Potashnick alongside Tim Harries on the brass — it wouldn’t be surprising to see Bailey appearing on Hootenanny; the song feels tailor-made for a Jools Holland R&B Orchestra collaboration.

“I can’t put pen to paper without scaring myself off the page,” she sings in the opening line, tinged with self-doubt and imposter syndrome. Lyrically, the track quickly pivots, transforming what could have been a pity party into a song about finding strength in walking away from what no longer serves you. It’s another empowering moment from Bailey, and an ideal tone-setter for the new year: raising a glass to what hasn’t worked, rather than living in the rear-view mirror.

The dip into a Memphis sound continues with the witty, saccharine-free love song ‘Growing Roots’. Inspired by staying close to home with her family while wrestling with an insatiable urge to be on the road and chasing the next project, it’s a warm, honest reflection on the tension between ambition and belonging.

That sense of never wanting to be held down for too long resurfaces on the introspective ‘Constant Need to Keep Going’. A deceptively simple country song, its hypnotic, undulating rhythm feels weary rather than laid-back. “Resting feels like giving up,” Bailey sings with rueful longing — yearning to stop, while the percussion refuses to let her rest.

‘Better Days’ may already be familiar to BBC Radio 2 listeners. Written by Bailey’s friend Matt Long (singer and songwriter with Catfish), who sadly passed away last year from bowel cancer, the track carries particular emotional weight. Both artists emerged on the UK blues scene around the same time, but Long’s journey was cruelly cut short. The arrangement channels classic R&B, complete with gospel-style backing vocals and tasteful guitar, but it’s the message that lingers most: a heartfelt and fitting tribute.

The album then pivots toward something more inward-looking. ‘Blessed’ opens a run of tender, stripped-back songs that trade brass for strings. It’s less Stax, more ‘Angel of Montgomery’, and all the more affecting for it.

‘Take a Step Back’ acts as the yang to ‘Blessed’s yin, returning to a soulful, uptempo drive. “You never know when to take it easy,” Bailey sings with swagger, her unmistakable voice sparkling over snappy, confident drums.

The remainder of the album continues to weave between these two worlds: the soulful, centre-stage confidence of tracks like ‘Angel’, and the folky introspection of ‘Tightrope’, which confronts mental health head-on, or the piano-led ‘Starling’, inspired by the passing of a close friend.

‘Can’t Take My Story Away’ is structured like Bailey herself: jubilant and extroverted in the spotlight, but revealing a quieter, more vulnerable side once the curtain falls. It’s a shifting tapestry, woven from different chapters of her life so far. You can’t take her story away, and if this album is any indication, the next chapter promises to be just as compelling.