Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 8.5/10
We may not have worn a sling in our youth, we possibly never had the misfortune to wear a cast on our leg, been mobile thanks to the crutches, or spent time in hospital thanks to the misery of accident that left us in pain and emotionally drained and vulnerable, but we are all carriers of the Font Of Human Fractures, we are all capable of writing words that can hurt, that damage and cause cracks to appear in even the most robust of relationships, that the typeface we use betrays more about the emotional state than the size of the letters involved.
The relationship we forever seem to splinter though is with ourselves, we are capable of causing so much damage to our psyche that it is no wonder we find our thoughts wishing, desiring, to be able to go back in time and have conversations with that younger version of us at the most pivotal points in our life, that in some way we can absolve our mind and soul for the breaks that are going to come, or at least try to understand the reason behind the fracture.
For Brighton-based musician Nick Hudson, his new album not only captures the scene laid out in epic proportions but also fulfils the desire of return to the studio after a five-year hiatus, and enlightens the listener of what it means, via the extraordinary way he weaves the concept and narrative of the album’s hero, of a queer man in his late thirties, and the destructive patterns he has observed in his life.
The album not only brings the joy of the concept album to the fore, a particular beauty of storytelling that does not the modern appreciation it deserves, but it is stunningly poetic, the words grab the attention of the listener, the way they are delivered, part speaking form and delicious melody, and one that the overall craft is one of unison and belief.
In such a concept album it is often bad form to try to justify one song over another, that life does not work in such a way and so its musical reflection should also steer clear if possible, of deciphering between the ups and downs, of the salvation and the broken despair, for they all play a part in our story. Yet the album’s issues and kaleidoscopic intent draws the listener in on tracks such as Voyeurs Who Offer Nothing, Tokyo Nights, the sublime The Ballad of K6996 Roma, Teenage Hudson Summons Epona and Come Back When There’s Nothing Left without shame or dishonour, the sense of building, of constructing the tale without them is unthinkable.
An album of colourful sensation, breathless in its delivery, fulfilling in its ending, Font Of Human Fractures is more than just a return of a genius to his craft, it is the belief that such a piece of extraordinary work can sit comfortably on your stereo and place you at the centre of its world.
Nick Hudson’’s Font Of Human Fractures is out now.
Ian D. Hall