It's a Sunday night, and there is celebration in the air.

Welsh singing sensation Amy Duffy is again at the top of the Charts.

She's understandably delighted and gets a roar from the crowd when, in her sing-song lilt, she tells them - especially when she encourages them to get sloshed there and then - or to have a few drinks for her at home.

There's no doubt this 23 year-old blonde, from tiny Nefyn, is the biggest new breakthrough artist of the year so far. But, beyond the percussive, retro-cool of hit single Mercy, is she really any good?

The answer, predictably depends on what you want from an artist.

If you expect ground-breaking new sound, new ideas, and thought-provoking lyrics, then you'll be disappointed.

If you are content to wallow in a shallow, slightly schmaltzy tepid pool of white soul, then Duffy's your girl.

There's no denying Amy can sing. That voice is pure and strong yet conveys warmth and emotion. It's just that, well, after a couple of songs, it all sounds the same.

The comparisons with Dusty Springfield are reasonable. But if you want Dusty, listen to Dusty.

If Duffy's album had been released in the 60s it would, quite rightly be hailed as a masterpiece. The problem is, it's all been done before. And better.

Yes, there's an endearing quality in her breezy optimism and mix of vulnerability and swagger, It's just that it's 40 years too late.

And, I hate to say it, but it's just a little bit boring. I'm sure it would make great dinner party music, but half-way through the set I found myself falling asleep on my feet. It was only the crush of smartly-turned out admirers hypnotised by her performance that kept me upright.

Clearly, however, I was alone. And the polished crowd crammed into the Zodiac room lapped up Duffy's slick of middle of the road, radio-friendly blandness.

They were here to see an attractive, endearingly honest young singer, with a voice as pure as Welsh mountain air, who has dominated the music industry without really trying. And they were not disappointed.

I just found myself hankering for something with a little bit more soul. And vowed to go out, the very next day, and buy every Dusty Springfield album I could find. Bliss!

Words and picture by Tim Hughes

5:12pm Tuesday 11th March 2008

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