St. Paul & The Broken Bones [VINYL]

In rock-music mythos, the self-titled album is a line in the sand—typically signifying a reinvention, a reunion, or a return to roots. St. Paul & The Broken Bones, the sixth LP from Birmingham’s ever-evolving Southern-soul giants, is somehow all of these things at once—carrying forward the experimental spirit of their back-to-back heavyweights The Alien Coast and (2022) Angels in Science Fiction (2023), but with a warmer, more accessible vibe that recalls the fun, exuberance, and buoyancy of their breakout debut, Half the City (2014), and beloved follow-ups Sea of Noise (2016) and Young Sick Camellia (2018) . As singer and co-founder Paul Janeway puts it, these 10 songs represent a "reset and a refresh" after a frenetic few years. "It’s the outcome of the book we wrote with the last records," he says, surveying the band’s evolution into period that touched on art-rock structures, stoner metal atmosphere, and rap beats. "[The self-titled album] is what the band is now. I think the band in general feels reignited. I’ve had this conversation with [bassist and co-founder] Jesse [Phillips], who said, 'I don’t know where we can take this. But we have the opportunity to make any kind of record we want." So with the new LP, co-written and produced with the decorated Eg White, they decided to stop pushing so hard and simply focus on classic "song craft." For Janeway, these 10 thrilling tunes feel like "comfort food," like hanging out at a "great barbecue joint." Before, "the band thought, 'How far can we take it?'" Now? "It’s 'What is the band great at? What lessons have we learned?’" Janeway has learned many lessons, both personal and creative, since September 2020, when The Broken Bones finished recording Angels in the Science Fiction. With that vibrant era in the rear view, Janeway started collaborating with a series of co-writers and featured artists, eventually finding the perfect partner in White: a prolific, London-based pop-rock veteran who’s co-written and produced hits with stars like Adele ("Chasing Pavements") and Celine Dion ("Water and a Flame"). Aided by that expert ear, Janeway finished a batch of new music he was proud of—but he pivoted back to full-band mode in January ’24, regrouping with his old friends at the iconic FAME Studios in Muscle Shoals, where they’d mixed their debut, Half the City, over a decade earlier. The room was immediately alive—given that they recorded their last two LPs remotely, it had been several years since they'd written together in this format. But then Phillips asked an intriguing question: 'Hey, man, can I hear some of the stuff you wrote with Eg White?" Janeway was initially reluctant to bring this music "into the band sphere," but his co-founder convinced him otherwise. They dusted off some of those tracks, melding them with the new group-written material and additional ideas Janeway cooked up with White after returning to London. "Basically our philosophy for the record was 'best song wins,'" the frontman says. Nonetheless, the octet—Janeway, Phillips, guitarist Browan Lollar, drummer Kevin Leon, keyboardist Al Gamble, trumpeter Allen Branstetter, saxophonist Amari Ansari, and trombonist Chad Fisher—had concerns. "What we were really worried about is, 'Are we gonna make Half the City 2?'" Janeway admits. "But I said, 'We’re not.' Albums are time capsules. They always will be. This is not the same band. Even if we tried to sit down and write the same record, it’s not possible because that was a moment in time." He’s absolutely right. The songs do ultimately feel like a comforting hug: the back-porch-on-a-summer-evening glow of "Fall Moon," with its rippling Hammond organ and nostalgic brass; the bluesy "I saw the light" chorus of the swaggering "Ooo-Wee"; the stabbing electric keys and signature falsetto sweetness on "I Think You Should Know"; the deep-pocket bass and growling hooks on "Nothing More Lonely"; the breezy slice-of-life that is "Seagulls," on which Janeway belts, "Perfect weather morning, drifting in the undertow / Seagulls on the awning, preacher on the radio." But St. Paul still branches out in subtle ways that this band never would have 10 years ago. Take lead single "Sushi and Coca-Cola," a psych-funk banger—with an uncharacteristically sparse opening verse—that shines a light on a moment of domestic bliss. "I was sitting in my living room, drinking a Mexican Coca-Cola and having some sushi—as on-point as it can be—with my wife and little girl," Janeway recalls. "I felt, 'Man, this is a great place.' You know how you have moments that feel like a warm bath'? This is one that me and Eg were writing, and I’d been saving it.’ I just like the way [the title] sang. I think everyone at first thought, 'That’s weirdly specific.' Had I just said 'dinner and a drink,' that doesn’t do it. We came up with this scenario about having a shit day but finding the comfort in that thing." "Sitting In The Corner" is