Henson’s new work is a devastating confessional, asking how much can one bear? And how much can one bare? His reputation is of a man and artist full of anxious frailty, working to overcome his shyness, and yet this tension only adds to the richness of this record. His vision of life and art is musically immersive, with gorgeous strings, brass and adventures in sampling and voice.
Kindly Now harks back to his earlier work, such as 2013's Birthdays, but borrows something from Henson's more electronic-focused 2015 record Behaving. There are many stand-outs: the cut and paste nature of March's vocal samples, married to soaring, searching strings is a tremendous, elegant opener, and it maps out the record's musical motifs, finding a natural companion piece in Gabe, with its submerged, echoey vocal and tinkly piano, and brass that sounds like it has been recorded in a well.
That’s where Henson takes us, down a musical well – burrowing back to remembrances of childhood innocence, set against painful realisations and the sense that some things can never be resolved.
The prayerful Holy Lover reveals real musical verve, with playful gospel-inspired harmonies evolving in rounds; How Could I Have Known is a piano-led treatise on regret, a feeling that actively flies around Kindly Now, landing on the fractured relationships explored on Good Lust, and Comfortable Love.
But it is really Henson's relationship with his work that carries the most weight; Polyhymnia details the scars gained by being vulnerable, and Alright is an encouraging letter to Henson's younger self: "obviously my wounds are open to see/But don't take them seriously, I'll be fine."
It is The Pugilist that resonates most deeply, however, with Henson confiding his worst fears and traits – "I've still got songs in me yet, and I'm frightened..."
In doing so, he creates his most potent record yet.
