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Within the overcrowded pop market, where musicians are encouraged to maintain a constant presence and stream of what’s depressingly termed “product”, South London’s own artist Joy Crookes’s journey has progressed in a curious series of fits and starts.

Following the release of a number of extended plays, she ended 2019 as a hotly tipped act: appearances on Later … With Jools Holland, nominated for the Brits Rising Star award, placed high in the influential music poll, and selected to open for a global superstar on tour.

But the latter was canceled by the pandemic, and her real commercial breakthrough was delayed for almost 24 months: released at the tail-end of 2021, her first full-length Skin charted highly and, in Feet Don’t Fail Me Now, spawned one of those long-tail viral hits that gains a strange ubiquity even without reaching the higher charts.

She began crafting a second album, then disappeared from view. The four years that divide her debut from Juniper were at least partly taken up by a period when she was “really sick” and “emotionally fragile”.

A Deeply Personal Record

It’s a period understandably hangs over the themes of Juniper: “I’m so sick, I’m so tired, I can’t go on like this,” she voices on opener Brave; “I’m pretty fucking miserable,” runs the blunt chorus of Mathematics, ostensibly a breakup song that appears rooted by something more profound than romantic woe alone.

You could argue that Juniper’s self-reflective mood has its trade-offs – there’s no room for the kind of incisive, social commentary about Brexit, urban change and immigration that appeared on Skin – but Crookes is an remarkably sharp lyricist who comes across as intelligent, worldly and gobby regardless of the emotional challenges she’s describing.

Avoiding Platitudes

Additionally, she consistently avoids the usual self-help platitudes about the kind of subjects Juniper addresses, from unhealthy attachments to family legacy pain.

House With a Pool, about abusive relationships, and Carmen, about impossible ideals, are all the more powerful for their light approach and rejection of melodrama choosing instead cleverness.

The latter rejects pat conclusions about the importance to love yourself or how everyone is beautiful, and instead ends unresolved, with Crookes still glowering resentfully at its “peng” titular character: “Why must I strive harder for only a fraction of what you got?”

Innovative Sound

The music is similarly an impressively fresh and individual take on the well-known. Her tracks have memorable hooks and catchy tunes – powerful enough, in the case of Carmen, that it holds its own despite its instrumentation incorporating something as instantly familiar as the distinctive keys from a classic hit.

It’s easy to label their style as post-Amy Winehouse vintage-inspired: Wurlitzers and Philadelphia International strings; warm, live-sounding bass and drums; the occasional touch of grit on Crookes’s voice, which transition between husky intensity and subtly swing-influenced to more conversational, rap-informed cadences.

Dreamy Soundscapes

It could easily seem ordinary, but it does not, because it’s filtered through an appealingly gauzy filter. Synthesizers, harps and organ glow and drift abstractly around the sound, the aural equivalent of glimpsing something in the periphery.

She uses generous amounts of dub reggae-esque echo; each element has a dreamlike, nocturnal quality. Hearing the deep low-end of Perfect Crime, or Pass the Salt, driven by a fantastic drum loop taken from a French icon and including a brief but explosive cameo from a rap star, you sense that Crookes has an deep appreciation for 90s electronica in its earliest, experimental form.

Eclectic Influences

This aligns with Crookes’s notably diverse list of inspirations: it’s rare to find a lot of singer-songwriters in today’s music scene name-checking Black Uhuru, the folk-punk pioneers and qawwali masters in interviews.

A Rare Misstep

There’s one stumble. A particular song feels jarringly perky given the moody surroundings it’s placed among, a state of affairs not much helped by its tune, which has a distinct 80s Euro-pop vibe.

However, a single misstep doesn’t matter much given how powerful the majority of Juniper is, how definitively it showcases Crookes’s gift as a singer and composer.

A Welcome Return

Several famous artists here – as well as Staples, Kano appears on Mathematics, while Sam Fender contributes vocals to Somebody to You – but the main attraction never feels outshone or overpowered.

Crookes has expressed concern about the delay between her sophomore release and her debut: “Is anyone going to remember me?” she asked openly not long ago. You can understand why, but Juniper shows itself worth anticipating.