Understated and prolific is never an easy pairing. For all his great work, Graham Coxon hasn’t quite been paid his dues. He was the best part of Blur, has a tremendous collection of solo albums, and his work alongside Rose Elinor Dougal in The Waeve is a career-best moment for both of them. Coxon has plenty of unreleased material too and appears to be in the process of archiving and categorising his older works, namely Castle Park, a 2012 album shelved because of a Blur reunion. Ten songs that could’ve easily been scrapped but are instead thrown out into the open so we can decide for ourselves whether Coxon is one of the all-time greats. He proved it a decade before recording this album, and a decade after too, funnily enough. Between 13, The Sky is Too High, and The Waeve, Coxon has issued many examples of his guitarist qualities but also his lyrical skill and vocal abilities. All of it comes to a head on Castle Park, an album moved by his mod culture influences.
There’s an ongoing simplicity to Castle Park that’s very easy to fall in love with. It’s a back-to-basics approach after hearing the art rock of The Waeve and the stadium-filling thrills of Blur. Coxon lets neither define him as he returns to this shelved project, revitalising it in time for a low-key tour of the UK. Opening tracks Billy Says and Alright serve as capable singles to the remaining eight tracks. Truthful hearts and that feeling of contentment are what appear in the first two songs. Sweet and sentimental but without that plunge into soppy romantics or dramatics for the sake of it. They’re lived-in, everyday heartbreaks and explore those highs and lows of love well enough. Much of Castle Park has that light and sunny style found on the earlier Blur records. It’s not because of Coxon’s connection to the band that this comes through but the early years spent in Colchester. The area has clearly affected Coxon, who lays down some wonderful instrumental work on There is a Little House to hail the place of his past.
Colchester becomes a comfortable backdrop to other songs on the album, too. When You Find Out has such a wonderful Kinks-like influence to it, an upbeat guitar riff which borders on harmonious. It’s not all upbeat, summery pop, though. Coxon lays out some darker moments on Isn’t It Funny. It’s a regressive but cool piece of work, sexy and seedy in equal measure as he channels both Watching the Detectives and Lay, Lady, Lay. Not in influence but in attitude and style. Coxon has successfully married the two and slowly builds, strum by strum, to a hopeful conclusion. Lamenting what’s lost while never having quite appreciated what you had. It’s a classic songwriting style, but with Coxon’s fragile voice, it comes together beautifully. A flirtation with country and western stylings on Dripping Souls is bridged well with thunderous, echoing drums.
While the latter half of the album may be beautiful, particularly the final two songs, it doesn’t quite fit the mood found in the early moments. Mélodie Pour Christine and All the Rage are far more interesting than the upbeat, mod-influenced Billy Says, though the triple of songs is hardly the most natural of accompanying songs. It works all the same, though. Castle Park is a particularly strong album from a period where Coxon was in high demand as a performer, be it with Blur or re-recording Please Please Me as a Beatles tribute collaboration. That latter project has seemingly slipped out of people’s minds. There’s a chance to walk a nostalgic road with Coxon through Castle Park, but he often finds fitting meaning away from the expected reflection. He is, if anything, keen to look ahead.
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