Yes, Joy is back, and isn’t that a good thing to say?
It was way back in January 2022 in Episode 19 that we first welcomed the south Londoner to the podcast, and I’ve been anticipating her next move ever since her brilliant debut, Skin, found its way into my life. That album – Crookes was already hyped and was nominated for the Brit Rising Star award in 2020 – truly put Crookes on the map, a heady mix of twenty-something south London life as a mixed-race women – growing up with an Irish father and Bangladeshi mother – painting nights out wrapped in cigarette smoke and JD and cokes, the 35 bus, parties, family, flirting and love, all set against deeper topics of mental health struggles, identity and nods to the good and bad of multicultural Britain. Trading on smoky soul, r’n’b, 60s pop, dancehall, as much of a melting pot as the city she calls home. It won the then 22 year old plaudits and a Mercury prize nomination.
It was a firm favourite in Hornsby towers; songs are still on my daughter’s playlist. It has been in my life ever since, a post-Covid breath of fresh air that seemed to have London as a backing singer, reminding me fondly of the place I called home for over two decades. The album was toured relentlessly over the next two years, with talk of new material in the studio, as well as Crookes’ appearance at fashion shows, festivals and even a Lexus advert, enjoying her new-found fame and bringing her own down-to-earth energy wherever she was. It was hard not to see her having the time of her life and not be there vicariously with her. And I wasn’t begrudging one single moment. She was the star we could all get behind.
But where was the new music I hoped for? It took until January of this year when Pass The Salt dropped: a new single, as yet decoupled from any expectation of a new album. And it felt fresh. Tricking us with a filtered soul intro, before dropping into heavy-drummed and bass-driven verse which felt like a statement of intent: “listen to this / I’ve got plenty to get off my chest.” Joy was back, but where had she been? This was a different tip to her smoky, ballsy, fun-filled sound of 2022. This was more weighty, direct, and pointed to a hardening of the now 26 years old artist: “I got thick skin on these bones, ah / When a bitch don’t rise to rumour / Get the words stuck in your throat, throat, throat”. It also featured a rasping verse from Compton native Vince Staples, elevating it and nudging away from expectations in under three minutes. As a comeback, it asked questions: what was next, what did Joy have to say this time, and was there an album coming soon too?
A second single followed soon after, again with a big name verse to shift thinking further: this time enlisting grime superstar and actor Kano for his verse in Mathematics. A more soul standard track this time, but with the grime OG’s vulnerable words standing out with power and poignancy alongside Crookes’ lyrics and pushing things forward (as well as starring in a memorable video for the release, below). On the surface, it felt like a song about unrequited love, but it also felt like something heavier loomed in the background. It raised the interest of both new directions, and what lay behind Crookes’ next step. After third single – the up-tempo pop of ‘I Know You’d Kill‘ in March – I finally got the news I was hoping for: a new album, Juniper, was due in September, almost four years to the day from her debut. It felt a long time, and as the media rounds started for that release, things became clear that it hadn’t been a simple ride for Crookes since she got on the hamster wheel.
For all the joy of the new record – to which we’ll come – there’s significant context to Juniper’s journey from studio to airwaves. In the middle of her rush of fame, things fell apart. The late nights and VIP rooms had been fun as she found her way up through the next tiers of the industry, but it all felt disconnected, causing Crookes to step away and question what was important to her. Talking to Grace Dent in her Comfort Eating podcast, she laid bare how hard it had hit her: “.…it was a very dark time. I was extremely unwell. Not in a good place. I had to face those mental health issues: after the high, I flew down. I was lonely and isolated, like I had no connection to anyone.” If it all sounds bleak, it was. Right at the point where she should be releasing a second album, there was questions around her own health, and whether it would actually happen.
While plainly laid out in its lyrics – opener Brave is an early statement: “I’m so sick, I’m so tired I can’t keep losing my mind / I want to be brave, I want to be in love / It’s time I stopped running away. I should stay” – Crookes had to contemplate confronting the reality of where her head was at to even get to the studio. Telling DIY mag: “Touring and everything is a great distraction but I obviously had something bubbling up for years in the background I’d decided not to deal with, mentally.” Sparked by coming out of a relationship, she realised her behaviours “were actually traits of someone with very specific traumas”. She had to choose between the party and her soul, and it came down to an easy choice, but a harder road: “you can fuck around, but the play time’s gonna end at some point. No more Alaïas or Tabis, you’re gonna have to put on your fuckin’ Salomons and go on the hike!” It’s what makes the joy of Juniper even greater, given what was overcome.
I’d already been playing the singles to death through the summer – the fast-paced 60s pop of I Know You’d Kill (penned about her love for her brilliant female manager) and the sultry Carmen, eschewing the simple love and loss for the myth of unattainable beauty – and they continued to come thick and fast. The modern trait of releasing half the album in tracks that’ll get the airplay and streaming numbers does dilute the mystery of the long player. But what was revealed early didn’t remove too much from the final product. It was so good to see Crookes back, and I was ready to play Juniper on repeat on day one, enjoying how much the singles change feeling as part of a greater whole.
It was such a bright, accessible listen. Crookes always had a skill for enveloping, classy soul and pop that – whatever the subject matter – you could tap and dance too, and her own vibrancy came through in every line. Brave’s dusky overtones were classic Crookes, but it felt laced with sadness: “Sometimes it’s hard to smile / When no hurt feels against us”, the vocals as rich and heady as ever, with its tales of love and the fear laying yourself open to someone else. Her wider palette of influences – not just Nina Simone or Sarah Vaughan, but also the first wave of Bristol’s trip-hop scene and Joy Division – seep into the album, and the first half of singles-heavy tracks, reward with layers. Flying through Pass The Salt – a track that sees Crookes call out an ‘arsehole woman’ who’d spread rumours about her – and Carmen‘s playful musings on beauty and expectation. Flitting effortlessly between genres and styles that revolve around her London soul and street sounds, she plays on her heritage – Perfect Crime’s video was shot in her mother’s homeland of Bangladesh, with Crookes goofing around on the river and the back of motorbikes, seemingly happy to be out of the other side of her trauma – and confidently wears it on her sleeve.
There are more musical departures that nod to a widening of horizons, too. For all of some reviewers seeing First Last Dance as a more derivative dance/pop track, it’s a firm favourite of mine already, and shows a willingness to move away from the template (and features one of my favourite lyrics on the album – ‘Feel like Travolta / Each time I hold ya’. And far from a breezy theme, like much of the album, it had a deeper narrative, relaying the anxiety felt during the recording process. As she told DIY Mag, “I was like, ‘my chest at the moment, you know that scene where they stab [Mia Wallace] with the needle because she’s taken way too much cocaine?’ They were like ‘yeah?’ and I was like, ‘well, that’s how it feels’.” She grins. “They were like ‘well, that’s a lyric!’”.
The production on the album really worked too. It was – to me – a bit more varied, but warm, full of layers, and above all, sat back to let Crookes’ voice shine through. The two work in harmony, and there feels like an added richness to her voice too, with a few years (and a few cigarettes) more, it’s so full of character. The album was a blend of studio talent: Blue May, her most regular partner, producing Skin before this record, was back. Harvey Grant also returned, having worked with Arlo Parks previously too. Tev’n – a collaborator with Stormzy – debuted, as did Chrome Sparks. With Crookes finding a way to blend al of this together, it sounds fantastic, but never overdone.
Of all the tracks that have found their way into my head, Somebody To You is the album’s zenith to me. Perhaps the simplest song on the record, it just aches with sadness and thoughtfulness (and features a sublime Sam Fender on backing vocals). Alongside the companion video, it feels like a classic love song, but once again the truth is more uncomfortable than that. Talking to Glamour magazine, she told how it actually hints at a familial relationship that had broken down in the interim and caused Joy to rethink what her life looks like without her reliance on that relative. And that also points to a bigger narrative about being a woman: “It’s such an important question for women trying to define their full adult selves outside of relationships that no longer serve them,” Crookes said, nodding to the line “‘Who am I when I’m out of your sight? I want to see how we look apart”, as “what the album really is about.”
The themes may more broadly always bring in love in all its raw detail – Perfect Crime’s title nods to the joy love after heartbreak – and Mathematics tells of unrequited love, with its verse recorded secretly by Kano, so moved was he by the song, and A House With A Pool, a tale of an abusive ex-partner and for Crookes “a shit year when I ground myself down into the smallest version of myself”. At each turn, there is something deeper running through Juniper than simple heartbreak. Where Skin was as much about love, identity, family and a love letter to her south London homeland, Juniper feels closer, more introspective.
It’s the sound of an artist that has grown up in the spotlight, suffered and questioned the outcomes of the very thing she loves, and come back to her centre of family and friends, to find connection and a way out of the trough. She is willing to put it all out there, and there’s a bravery and determination that makes Juniper rise above the simple follow-up on the same template and marks a step forward. Closer Paris muses on the effect of a relationship with another woman, Crookes calling out “one of the best songs I’ve ever done.” There’s a freedom to her admission that it didn’t matter to her being with someone rather than worrying about her internal voice’s worries: “Kinda wanted you to be my girlfriend / Didn’t wanna fuck with no more Catholic guilt / When it comes to pride / I’d raise my heart to a girl or guy”. It feels a distance from the person she was then, a willingness to embrace the emotion. I was stood in the crowd at Glastonbury in 2022 when she wept tears of joy at where she’d come to, and I think of that now and where this album will take her, a smile on my face.
Despite so much of the record being underpinned her exposure to fame and its pitfalls, it’s never painted in a morose or self-involved way. She is willing to reveal warts and all, and call out her own failings as much as her struggles. The tunes soar so well, and her lyrics are so sharp, clever, and zippy, that you feel you are always on Crookes’ side, even as she’s telling you her darkness of the past few years, while asking you not to pity her. She values her ‘reset’, and the people around her, from her family and pre-fame friends, to her manager Charlotte Owen, for whom I Know You’d Kill is a celebration of. There’s something beautiful about the fierce independence of two women, fighting back in an industry built on the male gaze.
As much as the subject matter weighs – and rightly so – on Juniper, it doesn’t flatten the melodies, and it’s also possible to let the album wash over you, dancing to the sound, as much as deep listening, headphones on, and taking in all of its majesty under the surface. And albums working on two levels are what we all love, right?
What Juniper gives me is a follow-up from a British songwriter of class, wit and honesty that feels every bit as good as the debut, with four more years of life, emotion, understanding and recovery poured into it. For all the struggles that Crookes has gone through, her determination to come out of the other side and bring that through to us in her music is a gift for all of us. In her early releases, there may have been lazy ‘next Winehouse’ comparisons, but I can’t think of another artist like her around, so steeped in London, and the clash of cultures that have made her who she is. We are lucky to have her and I hope you’ll see some of what I feel about Juniper in your own experience.
thisisnothappening.net 
Here’s some random track by track meanderings …
Brave – the clues in the title, this is a track about the bravery required to accept love but it’s also a bold, beautiful and BRAVE way to open this album. Most albums would keep this track for the final 3rd of the album. It’s a great album opener and suggests that there must be some serious shit coming up to be brave enough to start like this. It sounds like a Prince Paul beat that could easily fit onto a Handsome Boy album. I’m probably thinking of ‘The Truth’ featuring Roisin Murphy? Also big big ‘In My Bed’ Amy-vibes.
‘And I learn, and you learn to keep up a fighting stance, Will I see the day I don’t feel the need to defend myself.’
Pass the salt – The power. Perfection. Amazing verse by Vince Staples. This track feels really hard. Gritty. Its a glorious early single release. But it still feels fresh and awesome in the context of the album. Track of the year? I don’t know but it;s way up there.
‘I shine and you get sunburn, that sounds like a you problem’
Carmen – a song about comparison being the thief of joy. A nod to life with social media. An important message wrapped up in an amazing track. And wow. The lyrics, the melody, the performance. The track feels familiar, stylistically there is nothing new but there’s something in the way Joy does it that makes it stand out so far beyond anything vaguely similar. She is such a good lyricist.
‘Brown skin European with my London-Eye, I get envious of that vanilla type’
Perfect Crime – Perfect pop, a more upbeat energy than the tracks that precede it but still with a big dollop of self reflection and melancholy. Joy has the kind of voice that feels world weary regardless of what she’s singing about.
‘I’m gon’ mix love into sex and suffer no side effects, I pour myself into you, still keep a glass of me too’
Mathematics – oooooooooohhhhhhhh this is the one. Instant classic. Every line is lyrical perfection. Again the track and the style is familiar but Joy does it so differently. Her vocal performance and her lyrics are something really special. And the Kano verse, it was like hearing an old friend on the phone … and WOW it’s such a great verse. Every word of Joy’s and every word of Kano’s is perfect and they sit perfectly together. ‘I’m pretty but I’m miserable’ same Joy, same.
‘All that’s left is your tshirt, You’re a bruise and it still hurts.’
House With A Pool – ‘He’s a fuck-boy, dipped in angel’ another lyrical banger from start to finish. She’s such a clever song writer. Again, there’s nothing new or unique about this track. There are plenty of other songs that sound kind of like this, except that they don’t. The melody and the lyrics. The performance. That’s the difference again.
‘He’s a fuck boy, dripped in angel, and he gon feed you all them words that you like.’
I Know You’d Kill – This could be a bond theme. The tempo goes up. I’m not 100% in love with this track but when it starts I’m totally down for the next 3 minutes. Great performance AGAIN!
‘Get rocked like a lullaby, I’m so smooth, cyanide, bad bitch in disguise.’
First Last Dance – This is the Eurovision entry … and probable winner. It ain’t much fun from a subject matter perspective but it’s loads of fun from a perfect-pop-banger perspective. It could have been but it’s not throw-away, it’s still super high quality, it’s made with the same care and attention as the rest of the album. Awesome production, AGAIN. The acoustic guitar is perfect.
‘Two to tango, we got to co-depend, though I don’t like you, at least I got a friend’
Mother – Heartbreaking. A song written and sung for her future child? A rumination on what she does not want. Breaking generational and familial cycles. Massive string swirls that resolve back to that beautiful melody. The backing vocals are something else on this track. There’s a lot going on when you sit with it and really let it hit you.
‘Heavy heavy heartbreak made our country, Why does mamma india feel so far from me? Don’t hide.’
Somebody to you – one of the more uptempo tracks, there’s probably only a few BPM between all the tracks on the album, but when there is a slight up tick in the tempo it’s noticeable. This is a 3 minute little uptempo palette cleanser before the final, down tempo feel tracks that close the album out.
‘The less I see you, the more I need you, as a mortal man without me, holding you up.’
Forever – And the down tempo end to the album starts, this is a restrained, sparse track existing mainly of vocals and piano. It constantly feels like there is an explosion of some sort just around the corner. It never goes there and as it becomes obvious that it won’t it makes it all the more heartbreaking. I love the semi-discordant sounds employed in the latter half. I love this track. It’s way up there with my favourites. The production is faultless. It broods!
‘Saw my mama, make my dad cry, As a child I learned there’s no forever’
Paris – The last and longest track on the album, this track is really something too. This 2 song run of tracks to close out the album might not work for some and i think it might impact some peoples enjoyment of ‘Side B’ but the shimmering electric piano and electronic beeps and the hummed backing vocal reek of jazz club smokey vibes. I could listen to this all day. ‘Just cause your hurting doesn’t mean that I need to’.
‘Housing your pain in my light, there’s nothing sweet about that’.
I LOVE this write-up Joey. I thought it was a standard #JoeyBullets but then we get a song by song rundown, and I am here for that.
I agree with so much of what you say, and how you say it. I think it’s a great pop album at the start that just gets better and better with the lyrics. There’s so much good stuff in there. But at the heart of it, like the A-word, is that vocal delivery. For all the ‘performing arts’ vocalists that are elastic but sound the same and are low on actual emotion, her delivery feels so rich and natural and it’s what makes her.
She’s something special.
Blimey, brothers, that’s some act to follow in terms of a write-up. One of your best, Guy, and Joey your response is also a humdinger. I feel bad even trying to come at this album with anything other than the deep love you both have for it. But as you know, I’ve been on a complicated journey with it, and I didn’t want to write about it until I’d worked out what I felt. I went on a run this morning and listened to it again – and I think I’ve finally nailed what my feelings are. And what they are is…mixed.
Firstly, let’s get the caveats out of the way. Joy Crookes is a ridiculous talent, just ridiculous – her voice alone is national treasure, smoky and raw and full of emotion. And this album is a deeply personal journey of someone who clearly has been through a bucketload of shit since the first album. With that in mind, I’m coming at this with the hesitation of knowing that my opinions are like my arsehole – I have one, but I don’t need to go on about it. Alas, this is a blog and a podcast, so unfortunately I need to actually share my thoughts.
Joey, I think you’re right – this is a ‘classic’ album in a Neo-soul style, with all the trappings of that genre – beautifully produced, great musicianship, but yes, it does sound like it does that modern soul thing of cherry picking black musical history – a bit of Philly soul here, a touch of Lovers Rock over there, a fair bit of Motown and so on. It’s very, very tastefully done. And when it works, it is fucking dynamite. But for me, there are times where the politeness of the musical arrangement are at serious odds with the very personal lyrics of the songs.
You touch on the Amy thing, Joey, but you’re right, we REALLY need to go there. Because I have not heard an album that is so in the shadow of Winehouse for a long time – and I know you mention Frank, but I do think Back To Black – not least because of the thematic similarities – is the big one here. It is SO steeped in that sound, I almost had to check Mark Ronson wasn’t secretly on console duties. It’s not helped by the similarities between Joy and Amy’s voices – that smoky crack in the voice is so reminiscent. But what’s interesting is that I went back and listened to Crookes’s debut, and it doesn’t suffer from that comparison in the same way. It’s a slightly more vital, edgy debut.
What has finally dawned on me on my nth listen tromping around the lake in Roundhay Park on a rather lovely sunrise this morning is that I keep getting seduced by the first part of the album, and then let down by the second, and that’s why my reaction is so confused. I think the first 4 songs are FUCKING INCREDIBLE, arguably the tightest, freshest 4 opening tracks of any album this year. Brave is a perfect opener, Pass The Salt is one of the best songs of 2025 (and got me so excited for the album), Carmen is sultry and classic but feels fresh (and as Joey says, has great lyrics, and Perfect Crime is a belter of a single with a great refrain (I’m a killer, I’m a killer, I’m a killer/ Bang-bang, gun fingers in the mirror/ I won’t get caught this time/ Commit the perfect crime).
But then, I think things start to get a little patchier. What do I mean by patchier? Well I guess it’s a balancing act when you’re making an album like this – that tension between it sounding TOO classic (i.e. too derivative) and too edgy, but for me it errs too often on the side of caution musically. Now, my most divisive comment is about to hit, so I just want to say that this is just my own very personal response to this song, and I’m sorry if it doesn’t land well with everyone else. But I don’t like Mathematics at all. And for me, it’s where the album suddenly goes flat. It sounds like about a million other ballads, too heavy on the strings, and (god you’re going to hate this), I actually think she sounds a bit flat on the top note (the “I…..”). I also think Kano’s rap sounds like it belongs to an entirely different song.
Next song, House With A Pool is also not a fave for me – it sounds like Radio 2 fodder and I find the water/pool lyrics metaphor really stretched a bit thin, but it’s very Amy-lite. Things get back on track with an absolute belter, I Know You’d Kill, but then comes my least favourite song on the album, First Last Dance. Radio 2 fodder doesn’t even cover it. What is synth on the chorus? It’s horrible.
I can hear you all screaming – but you’re the fucking Pop Being of the Pod, David, what the hell is wrong with you? LOOK, I DON’T KNOW, I know it’s probably infuriating as hell. But I just really really don’t like First Last Dance. So here’s my problem – I’m deep into the second half, and I’ve liked one song in 4.
There’s nice enough stuff at the back end, Mother is beautiful, Forever is really nice and closer Paris is a more interesting track musically than most of the rest of the album. But for me, this is a wonderful artist who’s been through the mill who has written some really raw lyrics and then married them with some very, very safe musical choices. I’m not saying I needed a whole album of Pass The Salts, but I could have done with a bit more edge.
Anyway, I’m still enjoying listening to it, and this should be a fun discussion, huh? 😉
The weekend that the Joy Crookes album came out I made a rare trip into town to buy the vinyl. This is rare for me. Not buying vinyl but making a trip to the record shop right when album is released (at least these days). Crooke’s last album Skin still gets played all the time on vinyl when I’m working and I wanted the same with Juniper.
It’s nice to have Joy Crookes back. She’s a big part of music in our house and her voice echoing through the house is like the return of an old friend. On first impressions this album is classy and complicated.
So quick thoughts in my notes…
o The more I listen to the opening track the more epic I think it is. It reeks of sophistication and class. ‘I want to be brave, I want to be in love’… That line gets me every time.
o I thought First Dance has an amazing timeless feel to it. Until my daughter ruined it by singing Flowers by Mikey Cirus over it. Now I think the same every time I hear it.
o I love the vibe of mathematics… we’ve all been there. Knowing we’re better than someone but still hooked on them. ALSO… Kano… love this… adds a different dynamic …. Roles wanted him on pass the salt… Vince staples instead
o Paris is a really good song and hard to pull off. She pulls off what could be very noodely.
o My daughter is often singing pass the salt. I think Joy Crookes is a good role model in many ways. She’s a good soul and such a strong individual.
o The deeper you get into the album the more catchy it gets. She’s nailed the hooks. It’s a fine art to keep lyrics simple and smart. This is a masterclass.