It feels unlikely to be reviewing a new Black Grape record in 2023. Partially because it is almost thirty years since their debut and they haven’t exactly been prolific in the intervening years. But also because the fact that Shaun Ryder is still alive and kicking and making music is nothing short of a minor miracle, given his full tilt approach to life at the time the first Black Grape record was released. Less likely still is that this is a good record, one which whilst perhaps not the crowning glory in either Shaun or Kermit’s respectively impressive careers, certainly stands shoulder to shoulder with the other material in their back catalogue. When most of their contemporaries have either ceased to make new music or are trading solely on past glories, that feels quite important.
Album opener ‘Button Eyes’ gives those unfamiliar with the band a taste of what is to come, beginning with a slinky drumbeat and Cuban brass which then give way to Ryder doling out nonsensical but oddly engaging doggerel. It’s an MO which serves the band well across the album as a whole, insistent, groovy drums, Ryder’s carnival barker/street preacher routine and Kermit’s smoother flow weaving around thick, subterranean bassinets and a grab bag of musical influences.
It’s uptempo party music, drums and bass keeping the songs locked in a grove throughout. But it jumps around genres to keep things interesting. ‘Losers’ draws on Morricone’s spaghetti western soundtracks with its twangy guitar, ‘Panda’ is charged with pyschedelia, and ‘Pimp Wars’, with its perky horns and squelchy organ, is a charged slice of funk in the style of James Brown.
The jumping between genres doesn’t feel jarring or like a band desperately trying ideas to see what works. Instead, in keeping with the general party vibe of the record, it feels like a DJ flitting between sounds but skillfully maintaining a consistent energy. Part of the pleasure of the album is seeing what turn it will take next as each new song starts. ‘Quincy’ veers into 70s cop show theme tune; album closer ‘Sex On the Beach’ is a weighty slice of dub; ‘Milk’ feels like a kosmiche track with a bit of extra spring in its step.
It is also unfair to suggest that this is a vacuous record designed solely to make you dance. Whilst many of the lyrics show more enjoyment with the sound of words than their actual meaning (see the chorus of ‘Pimp Wars’ with its “Bad driver, muff diver refrain”), there is a focus on aging and reflection throughout befitting a band at this point in their career. Ryder sounds ruminative as he sings that “the game has changed.. the rules aren’t the same, before reflecting wryly that the band are “getting old like the Rolling Stones”. The aging seems to have bought acceptance and a kind of peace.’Part of Everything’ preaches the importance of letting go of pain, before offering a positivist mantra that just about stays the right side of self-help guru babble. It feels like the work of people happy but surprised to still be here and determined to make the most of what is left.
It has to be said that none of the songs is individually an instant classic or earworm but the record as a whole is tight, joyous and bursting with energy. You could find a lot of less rewarding things to do with an hour then giving it a listen.
Words by Will Collins
Picky Bastards 
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