There's always been something about The Corrs that I just can't take to. Whether it be the perfectly pitched B*Witched's older sisters/finishing school Cranberries gap in the market they aimed to fill or their tendency to lace everything they touched with fiddle de dee Irish tin whistles and reels, I could never find a way through the glossy Home and Country crossed with Vogue magazine cover to find anything worth reading within. And though that cover always had surface class and professionalism enough to ensure they were farting through silk, it was never enough to disguise the smell. 'Breathless' at least has a winebar unfriendly AOR rock urgency that distances itself from some of the more over earnest sermons in their catalogue, but when that rock urgency is borrowed/stolen wholesale from Mary Chapin Carpenter's 1993 'Passionate Kisses' then my interest is doomed to pale regardless. But even if it didn't, Andrea Corr's twee hiccup delivery on the "So go on, go on come on leave me breathless" is a ladle full of sugar with no accompanying medicine that offers not so much a slick come on as a throwback reminder of Mrs Doyle forcing yet another cup of tea on Father Ted. And it generates a similar reaction from me as Mrs Doyle tended to get from Ted; irritation mixed with the wish that she'd just shut up and go away.
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