Sam Fender's People Watching proves he's the bravest voice of his generation

Telegraph

21-02-2025

Sam Fender cuts an incongruous figure in the modern pop landscape, a hugely popular young star playing an electric guitar and singing rocky pop songs of protest, politics and passion.
People Watching is the 30-year-old North Shields songsmith's third album, and it picks up where the previous two left off: which is to say, approximately around 1978, roaring out of the darkness at the edge of town in a beaten up Ford Escort. Fender's oeuvre marries classic heartlands American rock to parochially British kitchen sink drama in a landscape of crumbling gasworks, nationalised railways and failing care homes. 'The cold permeates the neonatal baby,' he rages on Chin Up. 'Can't heat the place for f--king love nor money.'
The fact that this album is almost certainly bound to hit number one in the UK charts is astonishing. Harmonicas wail, saxophones blow, distorted guitars chug and bass and drums power along in a style that owes nothing to 21st century digital pop production, drawing heavily (perhaps a little too slavishly) on Bruce Springsteen, crossed with the dense wall of sound of American indie band The War On Drugs. Whilst production trends favour the kind of lean digital beats and bass that won't stress out a pair of earbuds, Fender and his band (the same loyal unit who have been backing him since 2017) charge through their songs as if on a mission to demolish studio speakers.
We live in challenging times, but you wouldn't know it from the pop charts, where at best you can hope to hear tartly witty lyrics about dating, with perhaps a side order of sensitivity to issues of mental health. But even Fender's relationship songs take place in a demolished landscape, where memories of an old love 'ring like tinnitus' (Rein Me In) and casual sex is an escape ('Do you have to know me?' is the catchy refrain of Arm's Length).
Singing in his native Geordie accent, Fender keeps the personal at the centre of the political, with self-doubt permeating his acutely observed narratives of lives of quiet desperation. 'Am I up to this?' he challenges himself on TV Dinners, a song that reshapes the rhyming scheme and melody of Bob Dylan's masterpiece It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding) into a moody monologue about escapism. 'They reared me as a class clown / Grass fed little cash cow / I cashed out, headed hell bound…'
It is one of a handful of exceptional songs that raise this album above Fender's base level tendency towards passionate but undistinguished rocking. The most exquisite is the clipped guitar and synth mesh of the downbeat Crumbling Empire, that brushes against Springsteen's Philadelphia with hints of Don Henley's The Boys of Summer in a song about returning to the ruined scenes of his misspent youth. 'I'm not preaching, I'm just talking,' Fender insists. 'I don't wear the shoes I used to walk in / But I can't help thinking where they'd take me / In this crumbling empire.'
The amazing fact is, those shoes have taken him to the top of the charts. It would be nice if a few more songwriters of his generation showed such courage and conviction. NMC
Tate McRae, So Close to What ★★★★☆
Tate McRae has come a long way since the release of her sophomore album, Think Later. The 21-year-old Canadian singer has spent the last year and a half whirling and twirling across award-show stages, performing hit songs including Greedy and Exes.
Back in 2023 you could be forgiven for having had little exposure to Tate and her music, but in 2025 that is no longer the case – she is everywhere. So much so that the TikTok sensation was mentioned by fellow Canadian artist Drake on his latest track Small Town Fame: 'B—h I feel like Tate McRae'.
On her latest album, So Close to What, it seems that the bubble-gum pop diva is here to stay. Produced once again by pop mastermind Ryan Tedder (who has worked with Taylor Swift, Adele and Beyoncé), McRae floats further away from the sugary ballads of her first two records to fully embrace an early Noughties pop-princess persona.
Its lead single, Sports Car, feels like an ode to the peak Pussycat Dolls era of sweaty, sexy club tracks built on intoxicating beats. McRae oozes confidence as she whispers 'I think you know what this is / I think you wanna uh / No, you ain't got no Mrs / Oh, but you got a sports car.' What's clear is that as McRae becomes more comfortable in her artistry, her lyrics become bolder and more scandalous.
The record features disco jams and R&B beats that could easily pass as Britney Spears hand-me-downs. It wouldn't be the first time Britney comparisons have been drawn. Blood on My Hands, featuring rapper Flo Milli, is an addictive hyper-feminine, ultra-pop dance number. 'I'm pretty and worth it / My feelings ain't hurtin' / Won't stay if it ain't working,' Milli coos assertively during her verse.
Can the album become slightly repetitive at times? Yes – but McRae has cleverly spotted a gap in the market for flirty, frivolous pop. That's not to say So Close to What doesn't have glimpses of complexity. Stand-out single Purple Laced Bra details the frustration of being seen merely as a sexual object: 'You only listen when I'm undressed'. Similarly, on the guitar-led closer Nostalgia, McRae's bluntly leans into her raw, unfiltered emotions. 'I manifested you would leave / So the day you did I had you beat / Three steps ahead of everything,' she admits.
Pop music has become saturated with soft, emotional ballads (the songs of Billie Eilish and Gracie Abrams spring to mind). McRae offers a welcome change – if you want tunes packed with snappy, catchy choruses and racy lyrics that make you feel powerful and sexy, then look no further. So Close to What is undeniably her strongest album so far, and with more than 11.6 billion total streams, over 40 million monthly Spotify listeners, and an upcoming sold-out UK tour, she is claiming her top spot in the pop-girl world. Nicole Collins
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