Graham Coxon is a renowned musician for several reasons, from Britpop fame in Blur, his collaboration with his wife, Rose Elinor Dougall, in The WAEVE, to his catalogue of soundtrack work. Each brings a different aspect of his seasoned talent to the surface. His latest album, ‘Castle Park,’ is a testament to that musicianship. A retrospective release of previously unheard tracks, it’s an album that looks back on Coxon’s life, from his beginnings in Colchester, where the album found its title, to the musical inspirations that have shaped his sound along the way.
‘Castle Park’ is a snapshot of nostalgic memories, each one drawing on the universalities of life: from the beauty and hopeless romanticism of everyday domesticity and the warmth of nostalgia to the unease of uncertainty and the existential insecurities of life. It shifts between the whimsy of young love (from petty jealousy and crushes to the small heartbreaks that feel like they’ll last forever) to the quiet darkness of adulthood anxieties. It’s a jarring shift, particularly in the last two tracks, that leaves a bittersweet taste to an otherwise sweet track listing.
It’s this versatility that’s most striking in the album, not only thematically but instrumentally, too. It dabbles in the erraticness of garage pop, seen in a cover of The Nerves’ ‘When You Find Out’ packed with riffs and power-pop influence, to the classic, characteristically ‘60s pop sound of the single ‘Billy Says’, while still managing to tangent into melodramatic cinematics and a detour to flamenco stylings in ‘Dripping Soul’. It flaunts every aspect of Coxon’s ability without veering too far from cohesiveness.
‘There’s a Little House’ is an expansive track, evoking images of The Beatles in its syncopated bluesy groove. The shared sing-speak vocals between Coxon and Lucy Parnell are delightfully playful and pair perfectly with the wandering basslines—it’s a breezy track that details romantic missteps,
A standout is ‘Isn’t It Funny’, where we hear Coxon lean into folk inspiration, drawing on noir and melodrama. Think dimly lit bars, the air filled with cigarette smoke, soundtracked by smooth basslines and the hit of a cymbal. It falls from the darkness into a hypnotic, feverish psychedelic dream, a romantic but haunted portrait of love and its lull.
The warmth of the album, from the nostalgic sunniness painted by Coxon to the familiar uplift in the melodies, is infectious. ‘Easy’ captures this most succinctly, drawing on the contentment of domesticity and just how easy life can be when you have the right person by your side. All of which makes the closing “Baba baba dada” all the more tender and sincere.
‘Melodie Pour Christine’ radiates this feeling, almost like the sun on the skin, in a delicate instrumental-led track. Combining harps, violins, and eerie choir vocals, it flits between optimistic overtures and sorrowful intensity. While it features no lyrics, it’s easily one of the most mood-influencing tracks on the album.
This denouement continues in ‘All the Rage’, the album’s closing track, whose nonchalant resignation acts almost as an encroaching shadow not on the release, but, metaphorically, as the anxieties of life often have a habit of doing. Penned by Graham as one of the most depressing songs he’s ever written, its woozy bleakness ends on a different footing than the bubble-gum pop it starts on.
‘Castle Park’ is a standout in Coxon’s career, not something to be rediscovered in the lost and found, but as a candid reflection on adolescence and growing up. It’s not just the youthful perspective on love, but the sobering realities of adulthood. Rather than feeling like a footnote, it offers a resonant meditation on the journeys—both personally and instrumentally—that shape us.
Megan-Louise Burnham
Image: James Kelly