Being the son of the Blockheads frontman, Ian Dury, Baxter Dury has always had a large shadow to assert his own authority within. As outlined in the 2010 cult film, Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll, his father, Ian, was never a particularly pleasant chap – although bearing his charming side occasionally, he is also purported to be a bully and gleeful womaniser throughout the film. His lyrics – as evidenced in the likes of ‘If I Was With A Woman’ and ‘Fucking Ada’ – would go on to further outline such disgruntlement. He was never particularly well mannered with his wordplay, no bad thing however as fortunately he was also particularly good at being fantastic with it. Ultimately, Ian’s lyrics dug into the soft earth of human wrongness and self-deprecation – Baxter’s wordplay, despite adopting the similar cockney slur, never stepped too close to profanities, well not until now.

Baxter’s previous workings, from 2002’s Len Parrot’s Memorial Lift through to 2014’s It’s A Pleasure, operated in more lighthearted factions. Cheery wordplay and anecdotes of sexual impulse litter his discography: ‘Isabel’, taken from 2011’s Happy Soup discusses sexual deviance in Portugal, ‘Wintery Kisses’, taken from It’s A Pleasure, works nostalgically upon loving memories. The sheen of rose tints are savagely torn at the seams with Prince Of Tears, however, as opener and recent single ’Miami’ asserts the narcissistic charisma that Baxter has being sitting on for years. It’s a track that outlines the arrogant misogyny of Baxter’s first character, the self-acclaimed lady’s man: “I don’t think you realise how successful I am / I’m like a shipping tycoon / Full of promise and cum”, laments Baxter; it’s a drunken, abrasive slur, sat upon a thick groove brought in by Ash Workman (previously Metronomy and Christine and The Queens) who sits with production duties.

Prince Of Tears, an album that documents the most real and personal distress of humankind – heartbreak – rarely holds back with its punches. With each persona that Dury takes on, he manages to ooze equal measures of desolate, scathing sinew into the bones of Prince Of Tears. With ‘Mungo’ he talks of the mundane and the miserable, “A funny little house and a funny little man but you got what you got” whereas on ‘Listen’ – which opens with the guitar offspring of Razorlight frolicking with The Clash after a blurred night on uppers – Dury talks of the muted conversations and ignorance that plague relationships.

The darkness that embodies Prince Of Tears contradicts Dury’s previous works, this time finding his lyrical branch snapped closer to the tree of his father. Its newly found emotional narcissism comes with its charm though. As an album that documents each characteristic of heartbreak, from the catharsis to the arrogance, the impenetrable vortex of self-hatred and the delusional hope of re-acquaintance with a loved one, it’s a brave new world for Baxter and one that is seemingly worth exploring.

Ironically, and perhaps fortunately, Workman’s production finds a lightness shining through the gaps between Dury’s morbid tales of his anti-wonderland. Workman's mixing with Metronomy clearly shines through, outlining blissful hooks and pulsating grooves throughout tracks such as ‘August’ and the aforementioned ‘Miami’. The raindrop drums on ‘Porcelain’ emphasise the album’s occasional delicacies, this time with Rose Elinor Dougall taking plate at the microphone and providing a stark contradiction to Dury’s mockney rambles.

Prince Of Tears successfully manages to step over the ‘woe is me’ trap of heartbreak albums. Instead, Dury mocks the painful process, with ‘OI’ he talks retrospectively about childhood; “Oi, do you remember me? / You broke my nose once / It fucking hurt” and with ‘Letter Bomb’, he vehemently attacks the whole process. ‘Almond Milk’ finds Sleaford Mods’ Jason Williamson lending his share of the vocal grit – a pure quickfire punk number that shows little remorse for the listener. Dury’s widening of musical arrangements allows for Prince Of Tears to reach the theatrics step it deserves – embedded from an early stage in the album’s process, the swooning orchestral elements is what really sets Dury’s latest effort aside from his previous releases.

Running alongside the occasional self-mocking hatred of ‘Miami’, ‘Letter Bomb’ and ‘Oi’ sit the truly tender moments. ‘August’, one of the really heart-wrenching points on the record, documents what Dury describes as one of the saddest moments of his life. Twinkling piano arrangements embellish the desperate calling of: “As hopeless / As I am / Got a lot of other stupid plans”, whereas ‘Prince of Tears’ addresses the modern man, someone more in love with his iPad than how to love himself and those around him.

Prince Of Tears is a truly clever album from Dury. Addressing his own sadness allows him to address many other men who can perhaps align themselves with his emotion and perhaps, in some cases, the characters who litter this album. Frequent collaborator Madelaine Hart returns once again and her touching vocals soften the album’s sharper corners and give a flavour of the male/female conversation that runs throughout relationships and romance. In a similar way to Mike Skinner, Dury addresses the male ego in an uncompromised fashion, destabilising myths and rupturing any stereotypes – it’s a piece of art that feels very relevant for the current male condition. Long live the Prince Of Tears.

Tom Churchill

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