That’s Baxter Dury, son of Ian Dury, describing himself in an interview a few years back. Listening to this, his third album, he could also be talking about the music.
There’s a strong bond between Baxter’s sound and that of his Dad. His lazy almost amateur vocal style is very similar but without any of the anger and bile. Just melancholy. The observational lyrics. Spoken-word versus. All very much like his dad. He’s got that dour wit that only an Englishman can have, or maybe just a jaded Londoner.
The music tight and often tender, with sparse arrangements. Minimal bass, guitar, drums and 1960's Casiotone keyboards. Very little effects and minimal production. It’s honest and low-fi but never harsh. Its got a warm analogue fug to it. It’s cozy.
The counterbalance of Baxter’s vocals with singer Madeline Hart's pure but worn-out backing vocals make an uneasy listen but somehow they work. Like a dysfunctional relationship.
There is an underlying sadness which permeates most of the album, both musically and lyrically. An album of opportunities missed, relationships lost, moments passed. If Dury Senior’s ‘New Boots & Panties!!’ was the drunken booze-fuelled night out, then Dury’s Junior’s ‘Happy Soup’ is definitely the morning after. The headache. The hangover. The bleary eyed realisations of “what have I done?”. Yes, you really did say that to her. You really did ruin everything. And you really can’t take it back now.
It’s a downbeat pop record. A bit miserable and unsure of itself. Shy, vulnerable, awkward, stupid. It’s also sweet and quietly beautiful all the same. It's impossible not to love.
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