I’ll admit it: Olly Murs is my guilty pleasure. Ever since he was cruelly robbed of victory by Joe McElderry in 2009’s The X Factor, I’ve felt a certain affinity for the Essex-born showman. His first albums, Olly Murs and In Case You Didn’t Know churned out catchy pop songs the right way, adding his cheeky, charismatic charm through ska infused vibes and happy-go-lucky melodies.
There is none of that allure in 24 Hrs. Pandering towards the audiences of Bublé whilst still targeting a younger generation of fans through more up to date, over-produced pop, Murs misses both. What is actually quite a varied album comes across as a confused one. His personality is evident, but hidden behind the unadventurous nature of the music itself.
His songs talk exclusively about heartbreak; by the time you hear the lyrics “there’s this girl but I let her get away” in the 13th track ‘That Girl’, it feels like you’ve been hit over the head with a dull hammer for the 50th time.
The album weighs you down with its obsessive focus on this specific someone; you feel like a third wheel awkwardly slurping a milkshake through a straw as you watch Murs stumble his way through a break up. Murs also takes every opportunity to assert that “we made love”, breaking the record for the most sexually obsessed yet politically correct – take note President Elect Trump – album of recent memory.
There isn’t much to redeem this album, which is a real shame. It’s pleasant to listen to, but 24 Hrs is probably an apt title considering how long you’ll remember it for.