It’s interesting to me at the outset of this that when Darren Hayman says that this “might be the record a lot of my audience has wanted me to make for a long time,” I’m probably not in that particular demographic. Except that I might be. Not because I long for the days of Hefner’s brilliantly wonky romance, but because of my love for Hayman’s love of ‘projects’.
I’m sure that any Darren Hayman fan will know what I mean by this. But for those who don’t, much of his output falls into this category, whether it’s the triptych of albums about Essex, writing and recording songs in every village where no one died in the first world war, albums of socialist chants, or songs from the Civil War or Essex witch trials. Hayman has a remarkable work ethic and he dislikes what I have heard him call “the myth of the muse”. He works all the time and will have no truck with the absence of inspiration or ‘vibe’. I like this about him.
New Starts, then, should not be thought of as simply a return to songwriting roots, but a band where the band is another project. A study of ‘bandness’ if you like. As such, this is an ensemble put together to emphasise the tensions, insecurities, and surprising triumphs of putting a new band together. Hayman ignores his own instincts and says yes to band suggestions throughout. Add to this the rule (Darren likes rules, right?) that every song has to be a tonal equivalent to the third Velvet Underground album, and we have a curious but immediately interesting foundation for an album.
The band are the rhythm section from Tigercats, Giles Barrett and Will Connor (bass and drums respectively), whose day job of Afro Beat-inspired music provides a groove and muscularity to the record that is instantly addictive. It’s a smart move to use a rhythm section who know each other’s game so intimately. Then there is guitarist Joely Smith from Adults, whose job seems to be to interrupt and problematise Hayman’s chugging or jangling Telecaster. Her playing swings from pleasing naivety to angular gnarliness. All three are great throughout.
The songs are vintage Hayman at first glance. And right from the start of ‘A Little Stone’, the Hefner crew will be delighted. But there’s an edge here that comes with the band arrangements. Dissonance, driven bass, and thudding toms. There’s an energy here that feels like a band in the right gear. There are lovely slow moments, too. The ‘Pale Blue Eyes’ of the album, ‘Don’t Need Persuading’, is up there with Hayman’s best songs. “I’m not a door or a window, or a bridge or a ladder” he croons in his own particular way.
Lyrics are always a huge part of Hayman’s appeal. He has that rare songwriter skill that can make the tiniest hurt feel utterly huge, and a wry turn of phrase only strengthens the pathos. Whether it’s saying the wrong things on an asbestos roof, or growing veg, we are given raw insight to grumbling romance. Equal parts painful and charming. On ‘I Think You Need To Say I Love You’ the arresting line “What made you think that I was kind?” provides the slightly brutal stone inside the fruit. Our protagonist is not justifying himself, but laying out flaw and mistake with an equal hand. There is a sore acceptance in here that probably most of us will recognise in our own past relationships. It’s a great new project from one of our best songwriters. Spend some time in a sad, but upbeat world.
