What Lies Beneath by Serious Child – Album Review
By Ellie Victor
Alan Young, the songwriter behind Serious Child, has always had a gift for turning small human details into something resonant, but here with his fourth album, things feel broader, darker and more finely tuned than his earlier work.
There is still plenty of indie-folk warmth on show, but this record is no fireside strum-along. It has a shadowed, orchestral-pop quality, with violin, clarinet, backing vocals and careful studio detail giving the songs added richness. At times it recalls the humane storytelling of Boo Hewerdine, the wry observational edge of The Divine Comedy, and the bruised Englishness of Richard Thompson. Yet Serious Child’s idiosyncracies make him difficult to pin down with any comparison. His songs tend to look slightly sideways at the world, finding unease in ordinary rooms and kindness in unlikely corners.
Opener ‘Underland’ has a strange subterranean pull, part folk tale, part psychological unease. It is brief, but it acts as a doorway. From there, What Lies Beneath moves through character sketches, domestic hauntings and social discomfort with a novelist’s eye. ‘Stunt Double’, featuring My Girl The River, brings a sharper emotional charge, while ‘First Tattoo’ is the album’s brightest moment, buoyed by a melody that feels genuinely delighted to be alive.
“Handmade charm”
The record’s best trick is its refusal to confuse delicacy with softness. ‘Dusk on the 33’ is a quiet heartbreaker, telling the story of a woman riding buses to keep warm while the world looks through her. Built around a Georgian lullaby, it could have tipped into sentimentality, but the writing is restrained enough to let the loneliness do its own work. ‘Cancel Me’, meanwhile, shows a more barbed side, taking a contemporary subject and treating it with theatrical bite rather than sermonising.
Musically, the album is at its strongest when the arrangements creep around the songs rather than decorating them. David Grubb’s violin and Annie Perry’s bass clarinet bring earth and weather to the record, while Chris Pepper’s production gives the material space without making it feel sparse. There is a pleasing sense of odd instruments appearing from cupboards, each one adding a small glint to the attic gloom.
The closing stretch deepens the mood. ‘Remnant’ has the ache of someone becoming invisible in plain sight, while ‘Book Ends’, adapted from late Leeds poet Tony Harrison, is blunt, tender and quietly devastating.
What Lies Beneath is an album about the people and feelings that slip below the surface: grief, memory, ageing, anger, neglect, stubborn joy. It is thoughtful without being precious, ambitious without losing its handmade charm. Serious Child has made a mature, carefully shaped album, rich in character and quiet conviction, and it is his most complete work to date.
3.5 out of 5.0 stars
Ellie has spent over three decades dissecting riffs, rhythms, and rockstar egos, all in pursuit of the perfect review. Her music writing journey began at 12 with a glowing 10/10 diary entry for Echo and the Bunnymen, and she’s been chasing that high ever since. Armed with encyclopaedic knowledge and a soft spot for the sonically daring, Ellie will review anything that’s put in front of her – as long as it’s on vinyl.
