Sam Fender’s “People Watching” is aptly titled. Across 11 songs, Fender sings an ode to his ailing hometown of North Shields, UK — and growing up and out of where he came from. He picks a new story to explore in each song and covers topics including drug abuse, suicide and poverty. Fender blends his powerful voice with insightful lyricism to navigate everything from talks of reflection to existentialism in an album that truly paints a picture of the world the way Fender sees it: crumbling.
I, like many new Fender listeners, was introduced to him when his 2021 track “Seventeen Going Under” gained viral traction on TikTok. The song delves into Fender’s childhood, so when I pressed play on the titular track, “People Watching,” I expected much of the same introspection. However, Fender takes a fresh approach while simultaneously reflecting on the death of a close family friend through sentiments like “Oh, I fear for this crippled island and the turmoil of the times” and “Oh, my heart, I feel so dark rememberin.” This track is a perfect opener and representation of the rest of the project as Fender addresses his frustration with his grief and the hopelessness he feels when returning back home.
Fender also addresses larger societal issues across the record. On the track “Crumbling Empire,” Fender ponders his place in a town after leaving and then returning later on. He describes the “Road like the surface of the moon / A Detroit neighbourhood left to ruin.” On the next track, “Little Bit Closer,” Fender expands his observations to religion, wondering, “What is God? / I never found it.” These two songs work exceptionally well together, serving as a natural progression from observing extreme misfortune to questioning whether a divine power exists.
Fender’s intensity only builds from there. “TV Dinner” is a lyrically and metaphorically dense piece as he characterizes the music industry as harmfully exploitative. Fender describes himself as a “cash cow” to the industry — he cites Amy Winehouse and how the music industry “bled her,” and also repeats “no one gets into my space” throughout the chorus. The song concludes with almost a full minute of ominous instrumentals, creating a beautiful contrast between the intensity of the lyrics and the silence of the instrumental fade-out.
Fender’s voice is raw, with his instrumentals blending folk, pop and rock to create a distinct sound on the mostly upbeat album. “Wild Long Lie” is reminiscent of Noah Kahan’s “Orange Juice” with its quiet bridge that provides a strong contrast to the eventually building last chorus. And though both Fender’s voice and the backing instruments are strong, he still produces sharp points of contrast that keep the album fresh, introducing breaks for trumpet and electric guitar or slow starts to eventually fast-paced songs. This helps Fender avoid oversaturating the listener with repetitive intensity of lyricism, voice and instrumentals.
The only weak point of the project, surprisingly, is the ending track, “Remember My Name.” I was waiting for something bigger to conclude such a dense album, but this crooning ballad does not scratch the itch. Fender’s voice is lovely, but concluding such a lyrically dense album on a somewhat sleeper of a song was an unfortunate choice — the lack of energy in the last song simply cannot compare to the contagious danceability of the rest of the album. Overall, across 48 minutes of “People Watching,” Fender explores societal issues, reflects on his own upbringing and creates a homogenous project that blends similar motifs and instrumentals in a project that builds toward something bigger than itself.
Contact Rory Lustberg at [email protected].
