They say that eventually we all end up like our parents.
If this is true then perhaps the events of the last two years (and counting) have just been the whole inevitable journey in microcosm, as we collectively spent long periods trapped in a simplified existence – and sometimes being grateful for the gift of life itself.
Like many of us, Joe Mount was left with thoughts about fulfilment and meaning as he shared lockdown at home with his partner and two young children; this stasis and renewed interest in the elementary joys of stuff like a walk outside were the inspirations on one level for Small World, Metronomy’s seventh album, following 2019’s ambitious but patchy Metronomy Forever.
You could argue that as in the studio this is pretty much a solo project, opportunities to take on board other people’s perspectives were understandably fewer, but either way Mount has retreated stylistically as well, attempting to recreate the adolescent experience of listening to the radio on trips spent with his family.
‘I’ve been remembering what it was like as a kid when I’d be sitting in the backseat of my parents’ car and they’d be playing their music and I’d think, ‘this is awful’,’ he says by way of explanation, ‘but there’d be one or two songs I would like. I thought it would be fun to make that kind of album.’
Inevitably with this in mind, Small World compared to its predecessor is much reduced in scale and outlook. Opener Life And Death sets the tone; whether pulling at the threads of domestic drab or looking more existentially, in either mode here is a writer working within himself. Gently soulful with a 90’s MOR feel, it reaches into the world of a stiff upper type of self-deceit for the benefit of those who can’t see the cracks.
Things return to a more recognizable, rustic electro pop brand of the past on It’s Good To Be Back, although the DIY disco happiness is tinged with a bittersweet undertow: ‘It feels so good to be back’ go the words hinting at revival, before then following that up mordantly with: ‘But our love is gone/Is our favourite song.’
A rolling synth line and typically breeze-filled vocal then powers Love Factory, its eccentricity fitting like a glove for devotees of the band’s back catalogue. The subject? A couple living in the post apocalypse.
If this all sounds like some kind of Kurt Vonnegut novel set to music, don’t panic. Right On Time has an oddly realized but lovely Balearic groove and features a snazzy guest vocal from Porridge Radio’s Dana Margolin, whilst the crisp post punk eddies of Loneliness On The Run offer a darker form of solace.
Closer I Have Seen Enough addresses the philosophical elephant in the room in the least obtuse manner. Written in acknowledgement of living in the lap of both ideas, the MOR piano picks out a solemn line as if trapped in some shuttered cocktail bar whilst the singer ruminates on how to feel worth in the face of a tidal wave of sadness and inevitability: ‘It was fine/what I did/Got a job, had some kids/See you in the abyss’.
Mount is keen to emphasise that this is not a lockdown record, merely one that was written in that period, with the knock-on effect being inevitable – everybody copes in different ways, and musicians write songs.
It’s a Small World after all, and he’s just living in it, like everyone else.
