After we thought we might lose him to Covid in the summer of 2020 it’s good to have word of an album from the happily revitalised Wreckless Eric. Born and brought up on the Sussex coast, now spending time in the North Norfolk resort of Cromer, it’s little surprise Leisureland carries a whiff of salt sea and candy floss. For this new record Eric has teamed up with Tapete Records enhancing a roster already rich with dependable mavericks (Pete Astor, Louis Philippe, Comet Gain).
Recorded at his home studio in upstate New York Leisureland is a heady mix of guitars, analogue keyboards, beatboxes and loops plus drummer, Sam Shepherd, who he met in a local coffee shop in Catskill. Sam only lives round the corner from him so could easily drop in to add drums to newly recorded tracks.
Leisureland contains more instrumentals than any of his previous albums. Though recorded in the US its concerns are English. The album is released on 25th August so arrives just in time to soundtrack the Bank Holiday Listen now to ‘Inside The Majestic’ and gaze on the fleshpots of Cromer.
The derelict interior of the Majestic cinema: broken seats, rotting red velvet, fallen, gilt-covered plaster mouldings…the screen, ripped and lurching. It could be the theme for a budget TV soap. The music plays, the credits roll, mugshots of the cast of everyday characters loom and disappear – Mr Braithwaite played by a well-loved British character actor in his eighties with disquietingly perfect teeth; a genial young policemen, all sticky-out ears and Brillianteened quiff; an old sea salt; an antique dealer; a brace of lady dog breeders… Normal folk just like you and me.
Here are Eric’s reflections on the genesis of Leisureland:
Before the pandemic I used to tour all the time – it was almost as though I was addicted to it – new places, new people. During the lockdown I couldn’t go anywhere. I think that’s why I started to invent a place.
Covid hit me hard, damaged my lungs, gave me a heart attack – I almost died in the emergency room. I began to feel extremely…mortal. I began to look at where I’ve been and where I come from. Maybe to get my mind off the ultimate destination.
When Standing Water first came along I had the British seaside town of Cromer in North Norfolk in mind. It quickly encompassed other seaside towns until it became its own place. British seaside towns with their stagnant boating lakes (filled in and set up for Crazy Golf) are a most peculiar contradiction – amusement arcades, unemployment. People flock in, spend money, but the locals don’t get rich, they pushed out. They end up on the Brownfield Estate, tucked away behind the out of town supermarket, where local children play on grassed-over landfills that seep methane gas.
I thought of my birthplace, Newhaven in East Sussex. My parents hated it – they couldn’t wait to leave. They’d moved there because of my dad’s job. I was born there and even though it might be a dump, it was where I came from, and for a young boy it was paradise – docks, cranes, cargo ships, fishing boats, a Victorian swing bridge, a steam locomotive rolling through the town centre… And the ferry service to France. I could see it, from the cliffs alongside the dull bungalow suburb where we moved when advancement made home ownership possible – the old Versailles steaming out of the harbour mouth and disappearing over the horizon to a distant somewhere else.
When I was growing up in South East England I didn’t know how the world was laid out though I had a pretty good idea that it was fucked-up. But my parameters were narrow – I lived an enclosed life. A walk to the end of the road, a bus ride, a train, a short walk to the school gates at the other end. Always the same bus, the same train, and the same walk. I got a bicycle and the possibilities widened – ride away from home for half a day, spend the other half riding back. Then I learned to hitchhike, I hitched rides to Brighton to see rock bands who sometimes came from America. I understood that the world was bigger than I first thought it was but I still hadn’t been much further than the end of the road.
I was dumb, but in my defence the information that might help me to become less dumb was not readily available – Peacehaven Public Library didn’t carry books by Jack Kerouac, and it never occurred to me to look at a map, or seek out a forward facing independent book shop because, as I said, I was dumb. I was also stoned, detached, confused, and waging a battle with the ancient neolithic settlement that lived under our house and threatened to climb on top of me most nights and crush the life out of me. I was a weird kid. We slept with our heads facing north.
When I was seventeen I gave up on trying to tunnel my way out of South East England, I learned to drive – it was easy, I was a natural. Since then I’ve driven all over the place and driven the length and breadth of the United States numerous times. I’ve been everywhere, man. I can tell you exactly how fucked-up it is.
I should tell you about the new album, but I can’t – you’ll have to figure that out for yourself. It shouldn’t be difficult. There’s a cough on every one of my later albums. This one breaks with tradition, it contains a sniff. There might be a small prize if you can find it, perhaps a weekend getaway for three people in Standing Water.
Welcome to Leisureland
Leisureland is released on Tapete Records on August 25th
Bucketfull Of Brains 