I remember hearing ‘Numb’ for the first time, back in 2012, and being utterly perplexed. “Where’d you say she’s from?” I asked my dad, “Sure listen to her, she’s hardly from Derry. And she’s my age??” And thus, my fascination with the Irish music scene was born, all thanks to an EP the family stumbled upon by accident (cheers by the way). Now it’s 2019, and SOAK is back. Four years removed from the Mercury-nominated ‘Before We Forgot How To Dream,’ the siren songs return to the walled city, four years more grown, learned and advanced.
Although better known by her stage name these days, Bridie Monds-Watson first came to national attention at 14 following the breakout success of ‘Sea Creatures.’ Hailed as a prodigy, a record deal soon followed, as did the prestige of being the youngest ever Mercury nominee. But years on the road took a toll on Monds-Watson’s mental wellbeing, leading to a retreat from the spotlight that has lasted nearly half a decade, a lifetime in the world of entertainment. If anything, however, Grim Town is a sign not of someone who has lost their touch but instead an artist who has added some new tricks. Maintaining her propensity for indie-infused dreamy folk-pop, SOAK’s latest is a treatise of mental proportions, a network of paths down memory lanes, dual carriageways into the future and round-the-clock construction going on in between. Powered by a gentle but resolute spirit and delightfully easy to lose yourself in, SOAK continues firing on all cylinders with her impressive sophomore effort.
While submerged in the passing of time (one of the main themes tackled is personal growth), it is important to note that GT is rooted firmly in the same location as all of SOAK’s best work: home. Take the title for instance, some colloquial wordplay often exchanged between Monds-Watson and friends (anything bad belongs in Grim Town, which presumably looks on in envy at its counterpart Happyville), instantly recognisable to locals and yet foreign to others. This predilection to bring her home with her has informed much of SOAK’s previous work, and GT is no different. Derry, after all, is as varied and complicated as the album itself. Voted the European City Of Culture, it also has one of the highest suicide rates in the continent. Historically divided by religion and sectarianism, but also one of the more progressive gender/LGBTQ+ hubs in the North. A coloured, chequered history riddled with violence and intolerance, it also plays host to some of the most vibrant cultural events in the country.
This dichotomy is seen often throughout the record, in the highs and lows of ‘Everybody loves you’ (“I was built from concrete, I don’t hurt no more… And I go numb when you speak”) and the bitter confidence of ‘Valentine Shmalentine,’ the juxtaposition between the positives and negatives are a constant presence on your shoulder. It is one of the humanising strengths of GT, a factor that makes the introspection of the album all the more believable.
The sonic horizon of GT is wide and is as likely to bring tears of laughter to your eyes as it is to induce ones of sadness. Released on Rough Trade records, the haggard, aching satisfaction that you emerge with following a complete listen feels like the equivalent of going 12 rounds with your own heart. With topics such as coming of age, anxiety, catharsis, sexuality, gender presentation and mental health going under the microscope, the undertaking of GT is no small feat, so thankfully it has a score to match. A blend of neo-soul melodies, indie pop instrumentation and the cleansing burn of Monds-Watson’s vocals give the album a timeless appeal, enhanced by the raw, authentic vulnerability of the lyricism. Unlike her debut, however, GT has defiance about it, a plucky, exploratory resilience that pushes back against boundaries and asks questions with an upright zeal: “Why do I ‘have’ to do that/dress like that/sound like that?” Don’t mistake the omnipresent melancholia for resignation, rather recognise it as an honest appraisal of one's sense of self. It is in these moments of contemplation that SOAK appears at her zenith, when she acknowledges that her lack of control over certain situations is not something to be heard, but accepted. On GT, SOAK may admit she knows little in the grand scheme of things, but the acceptance and acknowledgement of this fact is a better metaphor of self-awareness and inner confidence than any of those found on ‘Before we forgot…’
Indeed, the recognition of certain uncontrollable factors plays a large part in the construction of GT’s spiritual centre. Throughout, the references to local pubs, £5 taxis and free gaffs paint a picture that is warmly familiar, offset only by the chilling realisation that they have not altered, but rather SOAK (or in this case, you) has changed. The careful manoeuvres employed in dealing with a world that is both strangely familiar and increasingly alien are illustrated in the shatteringly beautiful ‘Scrapyard’ and ‘Déjà vu,’ with their soul-pop tendencies and radio-friendly harmonies melding to deliver the records most staggering one-two punch.
The contrast between their upbeat pace and the heartache of their lyrics is a perpetual driving force behind the deepest sections of the album. From the indie-electro jazz sway of ‘I Was Blue, Technicolour Too,’ the nostalgia-flecked pop toughness of ‘Knock Me Off My Feet’ or the folkish soul of ‘Missed Calls,’ the idea of taking the good with the bad is a staple device in SOAK’s repertoire that’s adds to the records relatable confusion. Nowhere is this more poignant than in standout track ‘I Was Blue…’ When Monds-Watson opens the second verse with “How can I be home and still want to go there?” it becomes impossible not to empathise with the songstress, who realises that there are aspects of her former small city life that are now utterly foreign to her. And yet, finishing the verse with the bittersweet self ribbing of “The off licence sign reads ‘We're sold out of empathy,’ for the pity party is underway” implies a tongue in cheek maturity that looks to the future with an assured sigh of endurance.
The dystopian landscape of Grim Town and the subsequent sunlight peeking over its clouds throughout are powerful metaphors for coming to grips with being a young adult, whether you are an award-nominated musician or not. What remains paramount throughout, be it through rainy nights or sunny days, is that SOAK remains comfortably in the drivers seat, master of her own destiny for better or worse.
Empowering in its humanity, sympathetic and emotionally encompassing, Grim Town is the Derry-born artist’s best body of work to date. Not because of what information it tells you, but because of what conclusions it allows you to arrive at yourself. Grim Town is not a map or a destination, but a crossroads that implores you, no matter what way you go, that you decide for yourself and be happy in your decision. And if is its biggest strength, then it’s a winner in my book.
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