Arms length, small talk and then some company
Or, using Sam Fender's 'People Watching' to think about community, vulnerability and friendship
If you’re British and/or based anywhere north of Birmingham, it is near contractually obliged to have a soft spot for Sam Fender. Possessor of both an incredibly strong vocal and an endearing aversion towards conventional celebrity, it probably goes without saying to most people reading this that he has been slowly but surely building a name for himself as a contemporary working class hero, writing heartfelt songs for the underdog masses1.
At the age of 25, his debut album Hypersonic Missiles delivered powerful indie-rock songs about male suicide, white privilege and naivety-stricken nihilism, whilst in 2021, Seventeen Going Under became his breakthrough moment, the isolation of the pandemic forcing him to turn his pen upon himself. Despite focusing pretty plainly on his own memories and struggles growing up, it deeply resonated: when he played the pyramid stage at Glastonbury in 2022, I was working backstage on shift for NME and can still remember the way the Portacabin rumbled as the crowds bellowed out it’s ‘woah oh oh oh oh oh, oh oh’ hook for several minutes after he left the stage.
Needless to say, anticipation for his third solo album, People Watching, was high. In an industry where artists are often pressured to chase trends and reinvent the wheel with every record, it was a masterclass in smoothly-helmed maturity, refusing to apologise for his sonic crutches whilst still taking reasonable risks. ‘TV Dinner’, for example, is an obvious cousin to the political spitfire of ‘Aye’ or ‘Play God’, but is massively more grandiose and ambitious in it’s delivery, like an audition to soundtrack James Bond. ‘Rein Me In’ is jaunty and loose; ‘Crumbling Empire’ takes road trip heartland rock to the max, effectively becoming the most Sam Fender song to have ever Fendered. It’s also one of the more effective mediations on uneasy fame that I’ve ever heard: there are a lot of politically-inclined mainstream musicians who would do well to write a line as succinct and self-aware as “I’m not preaching i’m just talking/I don’t wear the shoes I used to walk in” as a way of navigating the dissonance of growing privilege.
On those early first listens to the album though, one song stuck particularly fast. 'Arm’s Length’ is perhaps the most catchy and inoffensive Sam Fender choruses to date, but in other ways, it’s also one of his most vulnerable. Over the years, I’ve often found it notable that Sam tends not to write about his romantic needs and desires: where most pop artists sing about sex and relationships as their bread and butter, he often keeps things widescreen, looking at others more than himself. It’s a testament to his talent that he finds so much else to talk about, and it means that when he does sing about love it really hits2. But to my ears at least, ‘Arm’s Length’ seems to be pretty plainly about the discomfort of realising that you crave connection; or at very least, of wanting to play at being cool and sexy and carefree instead of the anxious, awkward and overthinking mess that you fear you truly are.
It’s a true game of halves; the sex is there in the way he lyrically interpolates Jermaine Stewart and the soulful-coy delivery of it’s most telling lines: ‘you can do anything that you want tonight” and “holding hands on the ride home/baby you’re looking like you’re out to kill”. But there’s also the creeping ennui: “I'm selfish and I'm lonely/Arm's length, small talk, and then some company”. What I’m trying to say is that in my professional music journalist opinion, Sam Fender is DTF, but isn’t quite sure if ‘casual and likeable’ is a vibe he can pull off without his personal neurosis coming in to dampen the mood:
I was making out then that I was fine and light
Oh, maybe you can do anything that you want tonight
But, oh, do you have to know me, know me inside out?
Do you have to know me, know me inside out?
I was holding on hope for a kind of friend
Oh, the blazing inferno of fuck-ups kind of got in my way
So, oh, do you have to know me, know me inside out?
Do you have to know me, know me inside out
To have a good time?
The dating market is thankfully one that I’ve never really officially been on, but given that my husband and I left the UK 9 months ago for a stint in California, it’s a song which has been ticking over in my head as I think about my own social needs, the opportunity to reinvent myself as someone more ‘fine and light’. For a long time, I’ve been pretty content to self-define myself as an introvert; anxious moon, overthinking rising. I’ve had the same three best friends since childhood and love them extremely dearly, but I’m also the kind of person who is quite happy to take a week of quiet to recover from a busy weekend. The majority of my work and hobbies are things that are great to do in groups but are also pretty comfortable alone; reading in coffee shops, writing, thrifting, going to gigs. Without getting parasocial about it, I think it’s part of why I relate to so much of Fender’s work; this is someone who clearly cares deeply about people and is interested in being in the thick of their worlds, but doesn’t necessarily crave the spotlight being turned back on him.
Having the luxurious option to choose to do stuff alone is pretty different to having to start your friendship base from scratch, however. Here in Palo Alto, everyone I meet is smart and cool and interesting, but also incredibly busy and accomplished in a way that can easily prod it’s fingers into your worst insecurities if you let it. When academia and silicon valley business looms so large over the region, the hustle culture becomes punishing real, and quite easy to interpret as ruthlessness or superiority. There are of course lots of lovely individual exceptions (and I’m very lucky in the immediate department I work in to be surrounded by nice folks), but when the default mode is one of total poise and control and sun-kissed hyper-optimised confidence, I’ve sometimes felt like I’m performing a parody of my own bumbling Britishness, my tendency towards self-deprecation and obsessive pop culture commentary coming across as insecurity, immaturity or a lack of intellectual heft.
A lovely colleague (now friend) of mine here and I have been joking that we’d all be better off we collectively agreed to just skip the peacocking, chill out a little and aim straight for the emotional intimacy; in Fender’s words; “arms length, small talk, and then some company”. But new friendship doesn’t really work that way, and in the last couple of months especially, I’ve become better at learning to trust the process, to not let my own insecurities or uncertainties get in the way of being known. Slowly but surely, I’m enjoying the journey of being inquisitive, of worrying less about whether I’m coming across annoying by messaging someone I think is cool to see if they want to do lunch. Who knows; they actually might!
I’m pushing myself out of my comfort zone by saying yes to last-minute plans and staying a little longer at the event than I normally would, but of also leaving when I’m ready to rather than teasing the idea of it for half an hour first (a classic awkward manoeuvre of the brits). I’m trying to trust that if someone truly hated my company I’d probably realise, and that being the first one in the group to admit that i’m tired/stressed/don’t get the reference/have something on my mind is not a weakness, but rather a way of gently encouraging others to realise that it’s okay to open up and do the same. Most of all, I’m figuring out how to enjoy people’s company for what it is rather than trying to fast-track things to a state of total profundity or deep connection. Not all friendships need to be soul bonds to be special and enjoyable; you don’t need to know me (know me, know me) inside out, to hopefully have a good time.
Baby steps though. Sometimes you need things to feel familiar, and so getting to see Sam play my existential earworm live earlier this month with just my husband was exactly what I needed. A brand new concert hall experience in a brand new city, but with plenty of hollering expat Brits in the room to remind us of home. Here are some cameraphone pictures from the show to look at, whilst I go and try and shrug off the residual cringe of being earnest on the internet.
Some other things i’ve been enjoying of late:
I’ve always loved working with Michelle Kambasha in her role as a music journalist/PR, and so I was really flattered when she asked to speak to me about my career for her new newsletter, the Pact, which is all about exploring the experiences of Black people working in music. Check it out here.
Sleepazoid, a Melbourne-based band, have come onto my radar after hearing a few of their songs on Triple J. Bits of ‘Chomp’ remind me of the pace of Tumblr-era Jamie T and Wolf Alice and The Maccabees, but there’s some tasty little shoegaze and heavy rock nuggets in their repertoire as well.
Margo’s Got Money Troubles by Rufi Thorpe is my favourite book of the year so far, a nuanced and humorous and heartfelt look at parenthood, sex work and online content creation. You can really see the research that must have gone into it, and the super thoughtful observations it makes about addiction and employment and respectability.
Another Margo — the illustrious Pulitzer-prize winning journalist and author Margo Jefferson — came to speak on campus a few weeks back, which felt like a real privilege to experience in a small and intimate setting. ‘On Michael Jackson’ is an obvious read given my continued research into #MeToo-afflicted music fandom, but I’ve got ‘Negroland’ cued up on my Kobo too.
After a slow, creaking start to 2025, K-Pop is back, baby. The Jade remix of Le Sserafim’s ‘Hot’ is a pairing which feels like it was personally made for me, whilst NMixx’s ‘Know About Me’ feels like it’s finally nailed the futuristic nostalgia R&B sound that a lot of bands have been aiming for. Also, the countdown to BTS’ completion of military service is now down to the double digits; I best get saving for the reunion tour…
On this note, i will say that I am still pretty disappointed by the 2022 incident where Fender was pictured in a selfie with Johnny Depp, especially given his broader social awareness and positive strides towards being a non-toxic role model for young men. I can’t exactly defend it, but I will say I’m trying to better at allowing myself to be slightly more forgiving in situations where the mishap was singular, swiftly addressed and appears to have come from a place of sincere thoughtlessness rather than genuinely nefarious intention or belief.
Better Of Me, a lesser-appreciated cut from Seventeen Going Under, being another great example