It’s hard to review a Baxter Dury album without mention his father, Ian Dury. In the 70s, Ian Dury and The Blockheads pioneered a style of post-punk that incorporated elements of funk, new wave and pop which went on to change the landscape for alternative music. On his previous work, Baxter seemed desperate to step out of his father’s shadow, never seeming to do so.
The Night Chancers is where this changes.
Baxter Dury has gradually developed one of the most distinctive and unique styles in contemporary indie music, combining his growling and rough vocal delivery with a melange of atmospheric piano, pounding synthesised drums and throbbing basslines. It’s equal parts spoken word, new wave and brings in elements of pop and lounge music to create something thoroughly moody and darkly poetic. It’s an aesthetic that made his 2017 album Prince Of Tears so unique and one which reaches its climax with his latest project, The Night Chancers.
The opening lines of the album (“I’m not your fucking friend. Though I try to be”) immediately plunge you into the gruff and miserable world of Dury, who moves between several distinct, moody vignettes across the 30 minute run time. The Night Chancers treads familiar ground for Dury, seeing him paint grubby and moody depictions of London and its more seedy characters. What is new, however, is the more thoughtful and considerate approach Dury takes, allowing him to deconstruct various aspects of modern life in humorous detail. At times this seems sleazy - the slinking bass lines and grimy lyrics that describe the “horrible trousers” and “small car” of his ex’s boyfriend who Dury stalks throughout ‘Carla’s Got A Boyfriend’. At other points it seems romantic, such as the crooning vocals on ‘Daylight’ which see him lamenting a lover, “you were so lovely, standing in the driveway, with your eyes flickering in the wind.”
Instrumentals combine pulsating electronic drums with soaring string sections, horns, staccato guitars and warm backing vocals that create a textured and warm backdrop for Dury’s monotone delivery. It’s got the polish of pop, the grit of post-punk and the sleaziness of a lounge singer. It’s a bizarre mixture but it works, think of the latest Arctic Monkeys album but a lot grubbier and more miserable.
It sounds like loungecore on heroin.
The interplay of grubbiness and glamour is what really makes the album, however. There are moments where Dury has the soul and class of Serge Gainsbourg as his lazy vocals drift over piano lines, at other points his lyrics carry the bite and grit of Mike Skinner and The Streets. It’s an intriguing juxtaposition that drives the album, as Dury conjures an atmosphere of grubby city life and casts himself as a sort of sneering onlooker, observing the seediness of a London after the sun sets.
The only thing that holds the album back, however, is that Dury falls into using a lot of the same palettes across the album. While his blend of lounge and post-punk is intriguing, Dury rarely steps out of this framework and fails to show himself as as varied as possible. If this album was any longer I feel like it would start to drag. What he does is great - it would just be nice to see him push himself and experiment with different ideas and styles.
High points include the 80’s infused synth-grit of ‘I’m Not Your Dog,’ the slinking bass line and weaving vocals of ‘Slumlord’ and the pure, seediness of the narrative on ‘Carla’s Got A Boyfriend’.
On The Night Chancers, Dury has truly stepped outside his father’s shadow to create an aesthetic that is intriguing and unique, an album that feels thoroughly his own. The question now - where does Baxter Dury go next?
7/10
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