Ladies and gentlemen, gather close and listen to a harrowing tale of a pallid Englishman with a knack for making you cry! No, it’s not because his music is bad; it’s because he writes songs that are so fragile, it feels like you could crack them by simply listening too hard. As I’m wont to do, I will start this review with a semi-long winded story, fasten your seatbelts and grab your complimentary onboard vomit receptacle. HERE WE GO!
Long ago, in my heartbroken days of squalor and alcohol (specifically, early last year), I was recovering from a long-term and emotionally invested relationship. The fallout was terrible and could probably be compared to the Oppenheimer nuclear test experiments. My apartment was a wasteland and the only solace and comfort I possessed was a newly found passion for finding new music. I discovered a young British musician by the name of Keaton Henson through an affiliated (but in no way similar) act. The first song I heard was a live performance of the track “Lying To You”, which can be heard on the album Birthdays. I was astounded by the performance. It wasn’t anything dazzling really, just a dude sitting out in his garden playing a song of discomfort and heartbreak. The tune was lovely, but I was particularly moved by his manner of conveyance in his emotions. You could hear his mental state in his voice more than his lyrics.
I immediately went in search of any albums he may have released. Unfortunately, at that point, all he had was a dinky winky EP (I’m not a huge fan of EPs, if you couldn’t tell) and my thirst for a full-length installment of material went unquenched. I was thirsty for Keaton, I tell you! Nothing could get in the way of me acquiring music at that point, except if said material didn’t exist. So for a little while my operation was derailed and the dragon that was my ravenous acquisition remained safely sedated.
Then came the magical day, April 2nd, 2012! Keaton Henson unleashed a sweeping saga of sadness that was sure to overwhelm you with emotion and beauty. It was somewhat difficult for me to procure this album since it was not, and is still not available in the US. Now, let me digress further and tell you how much disdain I hold for importing music. If importing music were like coaxing a fat man to give you his burrito (which I have had to do on occasion, for his safety), it would be like him charging you 50 dollars for a 5 dollar burrito treat. ‘Nuff Said. All of that aside, my desire for the album outweighed my desire to keep money in my coin purse and I paid handsomely and waited…
Two weeks later, I received a parcel from the United States Postal Service of Give Me My CD. Upon opening the parcel, I greedily ripped open the plastic wrapper and annoying security seal and stuffed my very own, brand new copy of Dear into my decrepit, archaic CD playing device. What I received was a personal message from Keaton Henson, in this correspondence, he told me of heartbreak, depression and frustration. I listened to every word that came out of his mouth with awe and enthusiasm. I wanted to make music like this.
Alrighty then, still reading? Good, because I’m getting to the point. Early in January of this year, I was made aware of a new Keaton Henson album. A new album? HOT DOG!!! It seems like he just released Dear and he is releasing another full length album already! My excitement was explosive.
I ordered his new record, cheerfully entitled Birthdays through Amazon import, as I had with his first album. Little did I know, they would release his album here in the states not two months later. I kind of knew what to expect, to think that he would change his style drastically in just one year was asinine. So I waited patiently for another personal message to be shipped across the Atlantic Ocean by Mr. Henson and lo and behold, a day came when the United States Postal Service of Give Me My CD dropped off a parcel on my doorstep. I almost felt nostalgia or a sense of déjà vu; a package with a personal message, a decrepit old CD player, and me sitting on the floor on the verge of crying like a little baby. Now, without further ado, Birthdays.
Birthdays. Birthdays… A beautifully arranged set of sad songs presented in a minimalistic, personal style. It almost seems like he performed each of the solo songs in one take right after hearing that his cat died. His voice fragile, not weak; tells of times passed when he actively sought love but was unfairly damaged by rejection. Some critics have characterized Keaton’s music as “sad bastard tunes”, we call those people “assholes”.
The structure of the album is different from Dear, though it starts off very similar. Quiet tunes, just guitar and vocals with some sparse accompaniment and minimal backup vocals. Then, out of nowhere, Keaton punches you in the face with two very loud, full blown electric songs. Then it calms down again. My interpretation of these songs being placed in this specific structure is that Keaton is expressing an emotion he didn’t really touch on in Dear, anger. He also hints that people have come to him and asked him why he writes such nasty songs about them. It’s all very scandalous if you ask me and makes for an interesting listen.
If there were a rating system that I could stand behind and believe in, I would give Birthdays the Bob Saget award for excellence in capturing raw emotion and making my soul weep openly. This is in the running for my favorite album of 2013 and now that it has been released in the states, you have no excuse not to get it. So why don’t you go and get it right now! I’ll wait.
Written by IV Freelancer Tobias Gaia.
PS: Here's the original video mentioned earlier in the article:
