Antony Szmierek – Service Station At The End Of The Universe

We will need to address the perfectly affable elephant in the room right from the off. Firstly, the pachyderm is eyeing up the half-eaten, rapidly cooling Ginsters and there's the small issue concerning the plate of last night's trifle replete with a fork jutting out of the top. It can only end in tears.

Antony Szmierek is an artist we have been harping on about for ages. We've called him a 'friend of the station' for heaven's sake. We love him. So much so, that he could feasibly kick us square on the shins, spit in our tea, call our pets nasty names, and we'd still lend him a tenner.

That's a long-winded way of saying, we adore this record. Simply adore it.

Making a name for himself by crafting euphoric "pop poetry" from the mundane, Szmierek’s debut album sets itself apart with its club-ready edge, while still offering the emotional depth and narrative style of spoken word. The title track introduces us to the microcosm that is the Service Station At The End Of The Universe, perhaps inspired by the one featured in Mel Brooks' Spaceballs, but with fewer tap-dancing aliens... maybe.

Szmierek crafts a world where you are taken into the warm embrace of 90's and noughties, yet confronted by the gold to be mined from the everyday banalities, where ordinary lives are odysseys. Plus, as the baggy-esque prelude kicks up a gear, you could be mistaken for thinking that Ian Brown or Shaun Ryder have cosied up for a guest slot.

Szmierek has been at pains to say he wanted to create a record that showcased his love for Manchester/Stockport, in that it has so much more than four chords and two furrowed brows, and here in this paean to his home, he really hits a rich vein.

We are already familiar with the flow of 'The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Fallacy' but to get there, we journey through the lovely 'Rafters', reveling in the halcyon days of stolen time, glances, kisses, we traverse broken Britain abandoning geographical and financial landmarks on 'The Great Pyramid Of Stockport', we relive the sweaty backed hungover mornings of an evening that doesn't stop, and the bees-in-brain stitching ourselves back together on 'Big Light'. The character of 'Yoga Treacher' speaks to me directly it seems, being that I'm a father desperately trying to be good and flailing to find a father figure of my own.

'Crumb' is a beautifully romantic view of hoping to be someone's 'something', and the surfeit of inverted commas that comes with that territory. Even if that's amounting to nothing more than a forgotten hair...or being the ghost of a custard cream. A clue that you were once part of a life that was not your own.

I wasn't quiet ready for the feels projected in the double whammy of 'Restless Leg Syndrome' and 'Crashing Up'. For anyone who goes through a similar emotional landslide minute by minute it is both glorious to recognise someone feels the same, but heartbreaking to know it's happening everywhere, at any given time, in millions of private little bubbles of personal battles.

The guitar splash at the end of 'Crashing Up' took me surprise and it hit me hard. I wait for the time where I can close my eyes, shut everything out, hold my arms aloft and simply be present.

One day.

One day.

The little vignettes on Service Station are ones that we can all relate to, but are maybe coming at from different junctures. Service Stations are micro-universes where all these inter-connecting characters and lives can overlap and intertwine.

Come the climax on 'Angie's Wedding', and we've gone full circle. The graffiti, the lights, the confetti. We are all one and are all alone spinning on this wobbly axis at the same time, pin-balling through and into each other's lives.

I had feared that there would not be enough light and shade to this record, but it’s an album that rewards repeated listens, with each track revealing new layers of sound and meaning. Szmierek's blending of existential musings with the vibrancy of its electroclash and house influences, ensure he never falls into gimmick territory and dashes those inevitable The Streets comparisons.

In this confident debut, Szmierek doesn’t just find his sound; he owns it and tosses the receipt out of the window - let the wind take it. He expertly bridges the gap between storytelling and infectious beats, Service Station At The End Of The Universe is a deeply authentic and adventurous work that showcases Szmierek’s unique ability to craft music that is both intellectual and irresistibly danceable.

5/5 – CLASSIC (working or otherwise)

Service Station At The End Of The Universe is out now on Mushroom Music/Virgin Music Group

© Underplay Records