Richard Dawson – ‘End of the Middle’ album review: a painstaking deep dive into everyday Britishness
THE SKINNY: Interweaving the narratives of different generations is no easy task. Especially when set in the backdrop of a deeply political and fractured Britain that’s designed to make them feel deeply separated. However, through universally mundane reference points, Richard Dawson grounds End of the Middle in the familiar and paints an emotional picture of commonality shared through pain.
The closing track’s beauty leaves you clenching your first, wanting more from previous moments in the record when you longed for Dawson to go somewhere else. Nonetheless, painting a picture of Britain’s green gardens, shoddy daytime TV and lager-swilled weddings in one fell swoop is no easy task, yet somehow Dawson does it with poetic ease.
With plucky vocal takes, Dawson weaves the narrative tapestry of a family through the lens of several generations in this wickedly clever and unflinchingly honest record. The title is an apt name for an album that tip-toes between the categorisations of life, be it age, class, romance, or illness, and speaks to a wider understanding of life’s chapters that are explored throughout the album.
Melodically, the record is constantly tip-toeing on a highwire of delicacy and harshness, with his jangly guitar providing an ever-changing backboard for his humorous vocal takes to make sense of. Fluttered throughout are the beautifully chaotic clarinet lines performed by Faye MacCalman that give the overall palette of the album an elegant harshness. The aforementioned point is perhaps the most important when listening, for it’s a record of contrast through its entire runtime. A contrast between narrators and emotions that are beautifully foregrounded by the sonic contrast of dark and light, created by Dawson’s organic recording style.
But where the record stands out is Dawson’s stunning lyricism. Somewhere between a ‘Parklife’ Phil Daniels and a Pink Moon Nick Drake, Dawson cleverly weaves an emotional depth into mundanely British cultural landmarks. Be it the vegetable patch in ‘Polytunnel’, the Lynx Africa in ‘Boxing Day Sales’ or the awkward formality of a British wedding in ‘Knot’, Dawson speaks to the introvert in us all and the discomfort we find in the everyday.
Ultimately, a thread of grief is woven into the subtext of this record and opens up the wounds of love and loss in a family setting. While it’s indeed beautifully portrayed on the stripped-back palette of the album, such is the beauty of Dawson’s musicality, you’re at times begging him to take his foot off the brakes. In the record’s beautiful climax, ‘More than Real’, he brings much-needed context to the entire record and hints at the potential heights of emotion the record could have reached had the other songs been backed by the same production.
For fans of: Paul Whitehouse comedies, pork-pies and the quietly upbeat cynicism of everyday Britishness.
A concluding comment from your local pub landlord: “Alright that’s enough crying now… another pint of ale?”
End of the Tunnel track by track:
Release date: February 14th | Producer: Richard Dawson | Label: Domino
‘Bolt’: Like a curtain being drawn on a spring day, Dawson opens the record delicately and tentatively before painting a picture of British domesticity. It’s a humble sonic composition that sets an honest landscape for the remainder of the album to walk into. [3/5]
‘Gondola’: Continuing his pared-back composition, Dawson allows his brutally honest lyrics to flourish. It flutters between the literal and commentary, using cultural landmarks to ground his exploration of sociological conflict within Britain. ‘I don’t want any regrets / my dreams died like a dolphin in a net’ cuts through very literal references to daytime TV to poignantly depict the moments in which we case ourselves daydreaming into existentialism. [3/5]
‘Bullies‘: An example of Dawson’s ability to make wider observations of deeply human feelings through the lens of very specific storytelling. Familiar questions of generational behaviour and breaking habit cycles are told through the story of a father grappling with his son’s own school troubles while subverting the role of the bullyer and the bullied. It’s an angsty subject matter only added to by the freeform clarinet parts. [3/5]
‘The Question’: After the stunning guitar introduction, the melodic profile ebbs and flows between delicate and harsh, trying to keep up with the marching but muted drum beat. While you listen, begging for the song to develop into something grander, there’s no denying the arrangement quality of this song. [3/5]
‘Boxing Day Sales’: Perhaps the records most conventional melody structure is accompanied by another beautiful clarinet part platform a cynical take on one of the most recognisable pillars of capitalist indulgence. [4/5]
‘Knot′: While music traditionally ignores it, bleakness can indeed exist in the most celebratory events. In ‘Knot’, Dawson doesn’t shy away from this reality as he muses about feelings of self-loathing and loneliness during a friend’s wedding. Fleeting social encounters and small-talk awkwardness are laid on top of an equally as stark soundscape in what is the record’s moodiest chapter and Dawson’s finest lyrical take. [4/5]
‘Polytunnel’: A sonic representation of tight-lipped Britishness in the face of hardship. Humble and at points banal, it unveils the truthful reality that exists within grief. It’s a track that provides important context to the wider picture of the album and provides an unbridled tenderness that makes the album both heartbreaking and uplifting. [4/5]
‘Removals Van’: Dawson shows how the stripped-back profile of this record has allowed him to flip between the inter-generational narrators. It shows the depth of his storytelling and how the sonic environment his album exists in can be adaptable to two very different generational voices, but as a listener, you’re begging for the track to develop to somewhat of a grander scale. [3.5/5]
‘More than Real’: A stark, more electronic departure opens the song and allows an orchestral arrangement to follow. It’s where the narrative arc draws to a dramatic and emotional close, bringing a resolution to Dawson’s achingly painful narrative. [4/5]
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