Album Review by Adam Foster
HAPPINESS IN MAGAZINES is Graham Coxon’s fifth solo album, but his first since he left Blur. Like any artist who gives up the day job to pursue his dream, Coxon seems to be enjoying the time and space that he has been afforded. Or perhaps, more prosaically, he has had to be a little more aware of the commercial prospects of this album than that of the last four.
That is not to say that there is a huge nod to populism here. There are some challenging tracks, to be sure: the haunting RIBBONS & LEAVES relies on a funereal piano and Coxon’s voice at its fragile best – which, for those who cannot bear his voice, is the equivalent to four minutes of blackboard scraping; and PEOPLE OF THE EARTH is frankly balls. Those that have never found his brand of geek-rock attractive will probably not flock to this album; Travis, it isn’t.
But, for a man who once professed an ambition to make an ‘unlistenable’ album, this is packed full of tuneful goodies. From the blistering opening SPECTACULAR to the Verve / late Lennon ALL OVER ME to, from the cheerful hopelessness of BITTERSWEET BUNDLE OF MISERY, with its Coffee and TV guitar, to the single FREAKIN’ OUT, this is a romp: Coxon doing what he pleases, but without the need to counter the saccharin nature of Albarn’s Blur. In comparison with previous solo efforts this does not feel like a man framing his doodles. From the Sergio Leone style of ARE YOU READY to the Delta-blues-gone-mad sound of GIRL DONE GONE, these works are fully realised, and liberating.
Like Coxon’s previous efforts, this really is an almost entirely solo work. He wrote the tunes, plays all the guitars and drums on a guitars-and-drums dominated album, sings in his cracked and vulnerable way, and penned the – in places – fantastically ‘faux naïf’ lyrics. And the lyrics are worth mentioning. Here is a man who, like Ian Dury, can’t resist a rhyme: “You’re very pretty and you’re tanned / but I’d rather sleep with my right hand…/ cus baby it just gets too ruff / when we get together in the buff,” from BOTTOM BUNK, for example, or “There’s no such thing as happy after / it just gets dafter,” on BITTERSWEET BUNDLE OF MISERY. But these lyrics, delivered in Coxon’s wavering, quavering, hovering voice, are not throwaway; they penetrate.
Pretty much the only thing Coxon doesn’t do on the album is produce it; and, again, the choice of Stephen Street is faultless, bringing a clarity of purpose lacking on earlier efforts. Coxon’s previous solo best, THE SKY IS TOO HIGH, promised more than subsequent work delivered. HAPPINESS IN MAGAZINES delivers in spades. If only PEOPLE OF THE EARTH had been left on the cutting-room floor…
