From a record yesterday that I didn't care for at all to another new one that has also been the recipient of high, high praise in the press well before its release and is now out, that I'm happy to endorse, with certain disclaimers.
Collapsed in Sunbeams, the debut from Arlo Parks, a young London based singer songwriter has been greatly anticipated generally following initial pre-release / teasers. It's an easy listen. Gentle, empathetic lyrical lyrics intoned over soft, warm beats.
I've listened to it several times over the last few days. always pleased to immerse myself in its company again. And Parks is very good company, even though she is much, much younger than me and her concerns are not really mine. I often feel when I listen to records like this, 'products of youth', that they are not really made for the likes of me. I'm a fifty five year old man, much closer to the end of my life than the beginning of it and listening to this makes you feel consistently that you are eavesdropping a converstion between late teens. Inappropriate somehow.
I generally turn of,f but in Park's case I'm happy to make an exception. She's clearly a noteworthy artist and I suspect there's much more and better to come. The record is resolutely diaristic as the recent Album of the Week review in The Guardian points out correctly. That review is well worth reading by the way. It nails a lot of what I'm trying to get at here.
How you respond to all this inner gushing probably depends on your age. I was once Park's age myself, kept and still have a diary from those times, and recognise the pain but essentially unformed and unlived sentiments it expresses. Collapsed in Sunbeams is first and foremost the product of a loved and reasonably comfortable London upbringing, Parents are always at the edge of the frame of discourse here and you always expect to be called down for dinner as brief respite to the intense but often unjustifiably heightened drama and turmoil going on within.
Parks is an acute witness of this process but at the same time I can't really completely endorse the brilliance of the intense short journey from adolesence to adulthood that she charts here. The lyrics are often essentially rather trite, 'I'd lick the grief right off your lips. You do your eyes like Robert Smith..' 'You started sweating, sweating bullets when your Dad asks, how do you really feel.' My teenage diaries were shallow and trite too but I didn't try to publish them and though Parks does a much better job than I did, this is hardly voice of a generation stuff . You sometimes long for a little bit more
No, the essential strength of this album is not in its lyrics but in its sound. It has a warmth and inner conviction that is altogether quite compelling and have drawn me back to it again and again this week and I'm convinced I'll want to listen to it again over the coming months once this review is posted. That doesn't always happen with things I write about on here, I've got another record to write about after all tomorrow. In the case of Collapsed in Sunbeams, I'll be happy to break this basic rule of thumb.
I'd tell Parks not to worry about it all too much though that might sound patronising and I imagine she'd take it as such. Despite all the inner drama on display on here her life sounds alright to me. I think it may be time to put her copy of Sylvia Plath, (referenced here as is so much of the core of teenage existence, some things never change), back on the shelf.. Collapsed in Sunbeams does a great job in describing what that unique passage in life feels like and I'm glad to have been able to hear it and be transported momentarily back to those days in my own life. I look forward to what comes next with her. In the meantime, hear the record for yourself. It's a good one and will stand the test of time I'd say.
No comments:
Post a Comment