Most people don’t get one bite at the cherry, let alone two or three. Then again, most people don’t capture the emotions, trials and tribulations of the average guy or girl on the street in the same way as Brian Fallon. Now comfortably settled into a solo career, Sleepwalkers arrives just as anticipation ramps up for The Gaslight Anthem’s tenth anniversary reunion shows in honour of The ’59 Sound later this year. Sleepwalkers is classic Fallon in a lot of ways, so fans will know whether they will enjoy it or not before even setting needle to vinyl. There are some new wrinkles to his usual heady mix of rock and soul, and it easily surpasses his solo debut Painkillers as an essential addition to an already fine canon.

Opener ‘If Your Prayers Don’t Get To Heaven’ zips by with more than a touch of gospel wrapping around the chorus to add a soulful vibe – a sound described accurately by Fallon as, “Heavy R&B”. Always having one (metaphorical) foot in the past, Fallon is a master at sonically conjuring up the essence of 1950s America – while still remaining absolutely relevant in the here and now. This toe-tapping, finger-clicking opener is the sort of song that could soundtrack a classic drive-through movie scene – and one that sets up a recurring theme of needing to escape that seems to run through much of Sleepwalkers. ‘Forget Me Not’ follows with a reminder that this man is, and always will be, an incurable romantic – imploring a lover to promise to visit his grave should he die first. In any other hands, that would be a song dripping with melancholia – in Fallon’s, it’s a fist-in-the-air anthem that gets the blood pumping faster. Delivered in a voice encased in gravel, it’s certain to become a future live favourite. As will ’Etta James’, the clear album highpoint, a track that soars in the heavens from the first second to the last.

Those infamous Springsteen comparisons were never anything more than lazy journalism brought on by the similarity of their New Jersey accents, and here there is even more distance between the two. Always vocal in his love of classic UK punk, Fallon’s love of these islands is written through the core of much of Sleepwalkers – whether it is his Strummer impression in the delivery of: “I pretended that my daddy was a bank-robber” in the very Clash-like ‘Come Wander With Me’, or the entirety of ‘Watson’, with its description of: “Chasing all the umbrellas in London, every footstep in Angel station”. More subtly, his new use of a Vox Continental organ swirling in the background brings to mind many legendary British bands down the ages and adds a new sound to his usual style.

As well, or perhaps responsible for, the theme of escape, it’s also apparent that the passing of time is starting to weigh more on Fallon’s mind. ‘Proof Of Life’ has him singing that: “I’m gonna sing right now while my heart still pounds…as long as you know how I loved you, that would be the proof of life when I’m gone” as well as the touching closer ‘See You On The Other Side’, where he describes a clock ticking down as he sings: “When we close our eyes on this lifetime, I’ll see you on the other side”. Never becoming maudlin though, every inch of Sleepwalkers exudes an unfailing optimism. Time may be ticking along, but everything in the meantime is going to somehow work out just fine.

Having described the ending of The Gaslight Anthem as being due to, “Not having anything left for the band to say”, it seems that Brian Fallon, the solo artist, has plenty left to talk about. It was once inconceivable to think it, let alone say it, but at this rate his solo work may yet even overtake the legacy left behind by his famous beginnings.

Jamie MacMillan

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