Following the success of Sam Fender’s sophomore album, Seventeen Going Under (2021), he found himself in a predicament. By that point, he had already supported the Rolling Stones in concert and completed a massive worldwide tour, only to return home to a sold-out crowd at Newcastle’s St. James Park for two nights running. Sure, it was everything he had dreamed about when wasting away his days in a call center, but, in his own words, “It was mad. It was too much, too fast.” He admitted he didn’t quite realize what he had gotten himself into.
Fender decided to step away for six weeks to regroup, and what he found was—as burned out as he was from the road—he still needed music at his core. He was determined to return home, if not in person, at least in song. He already had pieces of People Watching written down, and certain elements surfaced through this period of discovery, like being on the verge of 30, seeing his friends transition to other stages of life (marriage and children), and feeling older in general. People Watching demonstrates an appreciation for the past but doesn’t fixate on it, and for the first time, it feels like Fender can consider the places outside of himself for inspiration.
This time around, Sam Fender made some deliberate decisions that make the album feel bigger than his previous works and more dialed in. Part of that has to do with production choices that allow him to deliver songs that would seem appropriate for pop radio and yet not draw the ire of indie rock purists. Appropriately, the record comprises two studio sessions, one with Markus Dravs (Coldplay, Arcade Fire) and the other with War on Drugs’ Adam Granduciel.
Granduciel—who has limited production credits outside of work with his band—makes a considerable impact here. Granduciel and Fender share a love of similar artists, the most obvious reference point being Bruce Springsteen. Granduciel described Fender as a “musical savant”, showing his respect for the younger musician. That congruity can be felt throughout the record, with the integration of synths, layers of melodies, and more spacious sounds. The refrain on “People Watching” closes with a “whoo-hoo” that mimics a train. It’s a vocal device recognizable to any War on Drugs fan, not to mention the blowing sax featured here and elsewhere on the record.
Fender spoke about People Watching as “just a collection of songs about the human experience”, which offers a pretty accurate description. Beyond the title track, the LP features plenty of other gems. One such example is “Wild Long Lie”, with the timeworn theme about needing to leave one’s hometown, incorporating sophisticated lyrics like, “It’s that time of year again when your past comes home.” “Arm’s Length” is another excellent tune; it just gets repetitive. It could supplant “Roxanne” as your next favorite drinking song. Just take a drink every time Fender says “know me” (at 44 times, you’ll have a buzz just thinking about it).
In “Crumbling Empire”, Fender reflects on the down and out, focusing on a Detroit neighborhood left to ruin. Sonically, the track is more like Springsteen’s “Streets of Philadelphia” than “My Hometown”, with a little Bruce Hornsby thrown in there. The track includes insights from Fender’s new vantage point: “I’m not preaching, I’m just talking / I don’t wear the shoes I used to walk in / But I can’t help thinking where they take me / In this crumbling empire.” Other thoughtful themes run through the work, but what’s most recognizable is Fender’s innate ability to make moving music, as on “Chin Up” and “Little Bit Closer”.
The one knock is that Fender has no edge. Springsteen rallied for the ordinary person, Tom Petty spoke to stoners, and Warren Zevon used humor to expose atrocities. Fender has moved beyond the nostalgia that colored Seventeen Going Under, but he is still discovering what defines him compared to his idols. On a record this glossy, that ambiguity can come across as schmaltzy. It doesn’t help that he falls back on hackneyed phrases like “pushing up daisies” (“Nostalgia’s Lie”) and “one horse town” (“Chin Up”).
On the other hand, Fender is surprisingly mature for his age. It took the Killers six records to achieve this level of command. The album closes with “Remember My Name”, a beautiful song dedicated to his late grandparents, replete with uplifting vocals and a colliery brass band. This moment of daring intimacy suggests he is beginning to grasp what sets him apart. With his previous efforts, Sam Fender was an exciting up-and-coming artist; on People Watching, Fender has now established himself as a generational talent requiring your attention.