Service stations are, in many ways, the epicentres of the universe. Designed for folk to catch a breather from the breakneck of the motorway, these identical buildings are often gloomy and overpriced. Yet, people from all walks of life convene here; they’re a pillar of everyday community in a sensationalised, divided world.
They’re also unexpectedly central to the highly anticipated debut album from Antony Szmierek: ‘Service Station At The End Of The Universe’. Since the start of his career, the Manchester musician has crafted euphoric ‘pop poetry’ out of the mundane, but it’s his club-ready edge which places him lanes apart from the upbeat spoken word of Kae Tempest or arty post-punk, and more in the lineage of Mike Skinner.
For Szmierek, an author, poet, former high school English teacher and now full-time songwriter, ‘Service Station…’ is comfortably his most complete work to date. Showcasing the mastery with which he can envision a fully-fledged concept, he populates the record’s service station with a colourful cast of characters. Among them are bride-to-be Angie in the title track, the “patron saint of Withington” chatting up “a pound shop Geri Horner” in ‘Rafters’, and the hitchhiker travelling in search of some escapism (“You’re a galaxy / Take me away”).
Zooming in and out from this focal point, the record treads the line between fact and fiction, nodding to Douglas Adams’ The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy and posing existential questions of what ancient Egyptians might accomplish in present-day Greater Manchester on ‘The Great Pyramid Of Stockport’ (“The possibilities are endless.”). Meanwhile, ‘Yoga Teacher’ makes for a woozy, calming highlight, doing exactly what it’s supposed to say on the tin (“Breathe in, release”). It also briefly explores Szmierek’s tendency to overthink, something he explores further on ‘Restless Leg Syndrome’, where his more calculated poetry spirals into momentary overdrive.
In amongst the zingers and vivid picture-painting, the record excels in its forays into mild electroclash (‘Big Light’) and house (‘Rafters’, ‘Take Me There’), unlocking another dimension to the rave-led element Szmierek has teased in the past. Here, his distinct monotone is at no risk of becoming a gimmick, when lyrics that plenty of post-punk bands would dream of penning are backed up by chameleonic, club-tastic soundscapes. ‘Service Station At The End Of The Universe’ isn’t the mark of an artist finding his sound, but a confident, authentic trailblazer who knows his craft inside out.
