Beginning an album with a song called ‘Furlough Blues’ is a clever way to put a timestamp on the work, indicating straight away that we are about to experience a snapshot of those interminable months of early Covid that now sometimes feel like a million years ago. The song sets out a stall for the vulnerable, open album that is to follow. As Benedict sings about ‘waiting for some good news’ it’s a reminder to all of us of the days of doomscrolling, the endless press conferences on TV, and the very personal and individual struggles that came with our time stuck inside. It’s also a great way to start this album, because it indicates a musical evolution for Benedict as his normal folk stylings gain an occasionally rockier and more psychedelic sound. This may also be partly the result of lockdowns, as Benedict worked without his normal band and used more digital methods of music production. Whatever the reasons, it has resulted in his most expansive and exciting album yet.
That’s not to say that the quieter, more acoustic songs are gone from his repertoire. In fact, one of the album’s most affecting songs is also one of it’s simplest. ‘Nursery’ comes early in the album. It begins from a place where Benedict narrates the trauma of dropping off a crying, scared child at their childcare and stretches out to consider the many ‘accepted heartbreaks’ that parents are just meant to take on the chin because society tells us it’s normal. It’s not a subject that I have heard covered in song before, and not one that people feel able to talk about that often – particularly not men – so, as someone who is going through that very thing a few times a week right now, I found it touching, heartbreaking, and, ultimately, cathartic. It’s also just a beautiful song.
It is often the quieter, simpler songs that are most emotionally affecting here. Maybe that is to do with how their pared back nature makes it easier to access Benedict’s raw and vulnerable lyrics, which really are something to be celebrated. ‘Hanging By A Thread’ talks about watching a loved one struggling while you are struggling too (hard not to see this as another lockdown song), while ‘Sad Song’ reflects back into a anxiety-ridden coming-of-age that also celebrates a burgeoning relationship. There’s a beautiful section about how the death of a grandparent led to a period of acting out. And the album ends with two equally stunning songs – the storytelling on ‘Petrol’ is vivid and moving, while ‘Wonder How You Are’ remembers an old relationship in a song that sounds both haunting and hopeful.
None of that is to say that the other side of the album is less impactful. As well as ‘Furlough Blues’, ‘White Noise’ is a cracking song with a hypnotising chorus. ‘Despite’ is probably the most frantic we have heard a Benedict Benjamin song and has a real 60s vibe – it is the perfect way to break up the more insular, introspective sounding songs towards the end of the album. But even while it might sound more upbeat, it is another song in which the writer explores his inner self and looks for answers.
Within the stylistic switches throughout the album, there are consistent throughlines. These are made up by Benedict’s enthralling voice, his lyrical and storytelling ability, and in the feeling that this is a lockdown album that doesn’t dwell too heavily on that fact. In introducing that idea with ‘Furlough Blues’, the listener spends the album feeling like they’re in the mind of someone who is going through something so many of us did. Finding moments of the whole process incredibly challenging, watching yourself and others struggle, while also having plenty of time to reflect on the past and think about people in ways you hadn’t in a long time. I think many people worried that Covid and lockdown would lead to an outpouring of art that focused on that whole period, but that hasn’t really happened. And here, Benedict shows how you can do that well – with honesty, truth, self-reflection, and beautiful songs.
Words by Fran Slater
Picky Bastards 