A meteoric rise that Sam Fender rode for four years was bound to end. The velocity did not, just the phase, the period where Seventeen Going Under dominated the summer. It was triumphant and, more importantly, memorable. Those Glastonbury moments, the St. James’ Park set, were well-earned off the back of an outstanding album. A genuine achievement like that is nigh impossible to follow up. There is an expectation from fans far exceeding the euphoric experience already had. People Watching, Fender’s third album and his first in four years, is a considerate and often moving piece of work which adapts the successes of his preceding records and gives it all a new spin. Fender rises to the occasion and maintains a run of immaculate form. It comes in instrumental waves both familiar and crucially fresh. We catch Fender at a lyrical crossroads, where the past is once more informing his future.
But what Fender has gauged from the love for his family and friends is what gives him the power to go on with People Watching. He looks ahead and details his hopes with that same poetic strength, the brutal and colloquial charms which make his work a thrilling listen. Nostalgia’s Lie and the preceding title track both hint at these lessons, at accepting a life in the present day rather than in your memories. We can only affect the future by being present in it, and People Watching is keen to amplify and out the lies of the past. Wild Long Lie and Nostalgia’s Lie both target the fiction of an ill-remembered moment and its effect on the present. Anxieties are pointed at and not ridiculed, but accepted. All these early pieces are a build of what Fender does best, and what he is most known for. Slick saxophones, exceptional instrumentals and all the usual pangs of lyrical defiance which come from the roots of his work, the genuine and heartfelt flourishes.
Those early moments suggest repetition, a stick to the form which had him headlining shows across the globe. Not so, for People Watching is keen to outline Fender as a singer first, and instrumentalist second. Final single, Remember My Name, marks a career-best moment for the songwriter, in a discography already littered with memorable moments. He sidesteps the inevitabilities of his sound and in its place comes a heartland northern rock experience. Those twinkling moments which defined Seventeen Going Under are still there, a route between the two albums was inevitable, but its singles suggest a complete reliance. People Watching manages to evolve in all the right ways – crucially in its lyrical depths. Heavy material on Chin Up hears Fender deal with being in over his head, professionally and personally, with the usual charm and desire to stay upbeat. But he, along with acts of his quality, are pointing out it is not all rosy on the road.
Where the instrumentals may struggle to leave a mark on album tracks like Chin Up, the constant clarity Fender provides in times of real stress is his power. Finding the rhythm of life is just as important as keeping the faith. We can use our loved ones and lessons from all those important moments but, as Wild Long Lie understands, the overwhelming pride others have in us is a problem in of itself. People Watching intentionally muddies its experiences and those expecting a hit list of positivity in the face of a public image boom will be pleasantly surprised. Doubts, details of death and an immaculate perspective, a desire to move on from one act of life to another, are present. Crumbling Empire is as expected a commentary on the United Kingdom as it is accurate. How can anyone see anything but dreck? Fender has been open about his worldview and it is a welcome experience on People Watching.
Panic attacks in the dole queue on A Little Bit Closer are a heartbreaking reality while Crumbling Empire pokes some rather obvious holes in the world around us. They are of slower tempo, of larger layered instrumentals, yet they still hit with the same fundamental charms as Fender first started on. A truly unique ability to tap into the horrors of the modern world, to equate them to past experiences, and find a personable route through is what Fender manages across People Watching. Charmed instrumentals are key and it is wonderful to hear some new risks taken, some bursts of harmonica and those cool, brass closing moments on Remember My Name. It is as complete a continuation and evolution of Seventeen Going Under as can be. A warm album where heavy messages are balanced well by some calming instrumental flourishes.
As ever for Fender, the joy of his work comes from the unexpected moments, those pieces which punch at your emotions so suddenly. Rein Me In may be the best of all for that surprise, a smooth and catchy number where the backing vocalists and well-mixed style cast a shadow over those longing tones. What Fender has on his hands here is a continuation of those instrumental highs. He has found consistency in his writing which continues the genuine sound, the honest appeal of his work. Where People Watching may not have the breakout hits or the deep-cut joys, it is as complete a project as it gets. TV Dinner has him ward off newcomers to his life but not to his sound. Anxieties prevail, an openness continues and it is backed by a darker edge. There is nothing in the way of up-tempo classics, no sense of repeating the Seventeen Going Under effect.
Instead, there is the promise of brutally open and frank writing. People Watching’s greatest strength is its risk-taking. TV Dinner and Rein Me In stand as bold and jagged high points, moments which hear the ever-present yet contradictory states of mind warring with one another. Reinvention does not come from sticking to the plan which catapulted you to fame. It comes from an inward experience, an acceptance of changing tides and how best to sail through them. People Watching is an instrumentally ambitious offering from Fender which, in spots, may alienate those wanting that fine blur of dark songwriting yet upbeat tempo. This is not the place for it, nor is the political or cultural scene lending itself to sparks of optimism. People Watching is a strong third album from Fender because he, as he always does, puts himself on the line with a rare yet necessary openness.
