It would be unfair to say that this is the first we’ve heard of LUPEN CROOK'S vulnerable side, but it’s perhaps the first time it’s clawed its way to dominance. There have been plenty of moments littered over his previous albums that have served to show that amongst the spit, blood and spunk (seminal work, whichever way you look at it), there is a very strong conscience that drives it all.
Eight months ago, Lupen was weighing up ‘The Pros and Cons of Eating Out’ with his grandest, most vitriolic album to date. Now, though, with ‘Waiting For The Postman,’ we are made privy to the retribution that follows such chaos and carnage. Personal journeys, personal tragedies and person ambitions drive this, his fourth album, which, rather unexpectedly, is his most uplifting collection to date.
This album is the absolute antithesis to its predecessor, yet is also the perfect companion piece. ‘The Pros and Cons of Eating Out’ felt like the epicentre of the storm, with confusion and destruction vying for dominance in equal measures. ‘Waiting for the Postman’ is the comedown. It’s a pared back Lupen Crook experience, predominantly recorded in his home studio, with relatively minimal accompaniment. That is not to imply that anything is lacking here.
This is all a bit gushing but Lupen Crook is genuinely the best songwriter in this country right now. His lyrics are devastating both in their honesty and their originality. Through his songs he has created a captivating literary protagonist out of himself and his own experiences, with some of his expositions so personal that you might as well be breaking into his home and rooting through his underwear drawer whilst flicking through the diary marked ‘top secret.’
The songs on ‘Waiting for the Postman’ are pure story-telling. ‘The Domestic’ and ‘The Dirty Mile’ are perfect depictions of domestic boredom and the dour acceptance of drifting away from the ones you love. ‘Tale of the Everyman’ marks a kick against said domestic boredom in favour of pastures new, a bittersweet ode to a place being left behind, for better or worse. It’s a Dick Whittington tale for our times, with our fearless friend, scuffed and torn knapsack over his shoulder, waving goodbye to Medway Towns in search of the bright lights, recognition and promise of London town. “Goodbye, and fuck you,” indeed.
‘Chasing Dragons’ is an optimistic sounding but paradoxically heartbreaking tribute to a friend lost along the way. It’s a strong story of the power of friendship, the bond between men which many would feel too macho or self-aware to even acknowledge, let alone discuss. The lyrics are so personal that they feel like voyeurism to listen to. A literal guilty pleasure, it’s an optimistic eulogy littered with self-reproach but a summery hook. Similarly, the stand along story of first single ‘Lunacy’ represents one of Lupen’s catchiest songs to date, and is this album’s most immediate ear-worm (although others will follow, they always do). Again, the imagery painted in this boy meets runaway yarn depicts a full adventure from within the confines of a fairly short pop song.
Also on here are examples of his most accessible songs to date, which is not to say that they are mediocre. ‘The Dirty Mile’ seems like a straightforward acoustic lament, but it comes alive with strings and such at the chorus. ‘Mantra 69’ descends into a sweeping breakdown that conveys a state of mind perfectly.
|
As should be expected of the ever-diverse Mr. Crook, though, new territories are ventured into and duly conquered. ‘Cold Alone’ is a filthy little show-tune, and ‘Hard Times’ is a lo-fi electro Patrick Wolf experience, a Lupen Crook song to dance to, despite the paradoxically despairing lyrics (see also the remixes of Lunacy for further evidence of how to enjoy these songs outside of the traditional indie settings). This is possibly what makes this music stand out when compared to so many other male singer-songwriters out there right now. Whilst the imagery is often harrowing, the tone rarely ventures into self-pity. These are not mere woe-is-me expulsions, but confessionals that just had to be written. You never get the impression that this is the work of someone feeling relentlessly sorry for themselves, just making sense and sometimes learning from the experience.
The Lupen Crook listening experience is never a comfortable one. He frames his experiences in such a way that it feels intrusive, but describes moments and emotions so tangibly that empathy lurks between every line. ‘Waiting for the Postman’ is Lupen’s most prolonged melancholic outpouring, and adds another dimension to a career that has fascinated at every turn. It serves an attempt to draw a line under the past, whilst hopefully looking to the future. It gets my first ten out of ten review for moving me in a way that music has failed to do for a good while.
In a fair world, a world where everyone isn’t just being force-fed Adele and sending repackaged Take That albums to the top of the charts, Lupen Crook would be one of this country’s biggest stars. At present he means a hell of a lot to a small but dedicated army of fans. The sentiment behind every song is too specific to appeal to the masses, who seem to want generic heartbreak and the ultimate first wedding dance song so meaningless that it can apply to anyone. But we all know someone who would fucking adore this. So whilst it’s nice to have a very special secret, the time has come to spread the word. This is a good starting point, but only if you promise to work backwards from here.
For more convincing, please see here:
Live review of Lupen Crook on W&H
Review of Iscariott the Ladder on W&H
Interview and EP review on W&H
Review of The Pros & Cons of Eating Out on W&H
Lupen Crook online
|
