It’s rare to come across a Geordie who hasn’t heard of Sam Fender, but it’s even rarer to meet one who dislikes the singer and it’s clear why. His first two albums, Hypersonic Missiles and Seventeen Going Under cemented his well-deserved place as a 21st century music legend. Perhaps the most striking part of his music is his lyrical commitment to exploring the world at large whilst never straying from his home in North Shields.

“As much as you long for home, you know that no matter what, it’s never going to be the same place as your childhood”

Evident throughout the album is the theme of disconnect and existentialism. Fender documents this detachment from his working – class life, as a result of his meteoric rise to fame. Though I’m not a musician, in fact far from, I do resonate with this aspect. The northern working-class background I’ve always had and taken immense pride in feels like it’s slipping further and further away after three years of Cambridge imminently coming to a close. In a way, it’s reassuring the artist who reminds you most of home also feels a similar detachment. Fender’s position of being in my Spotify Wrapped for the past five years is no surprise given his music is one of the few home comforts I’m able to enjoy in term time.

The release of the title single ‘People Watching’ in November 2024 was what really got me through the last few weeks of Michaelmas. Being over 200 miles from home, which feels even further in the absence of a Newcastle accent or community, I had never felt so homesick in the whole of my time at Cambridge. The song comments on experiencing grief, but also the institutional injustices within healthcare: “understaffed and overruled by callous hands.” Even in a deeply personal and emotional song, dedicated to someone he considered a “surrogate mother,” it’s clear that the political and the personal are so deeply intertwined for Fender.

The transition from ‘People Watching’ into ‘Nostalgia’s Lie’ is satisfying. The consecutive sequence of these two songs is fitting given that people–watching is very much an outsider’s activity. To then transition this into ‘Nostalgia’s Lie’, with the line “Can you take me back to somewhere, darling? / Where I feel safe”, shows that disconnection from his ‘normal’ previous life and a nostalgic desire to be back in the comforts of home. In the moments of homesickness when in Cambridge, this line couldn’t be more true. It’s difficult when you’re so far from home, about to graduate, and have no idea about where you’ll be in six months time. As much as you long for home, you know that no matter what, it’s never going to be the same place as your childhood.

“The experience of being talked down to, undermined and snubbed is an experience most northerners in Cambridge are all too aware of”

Similarly, ‘Wild Long Lie’ was released before the full album which was a privilege to hear live in the O2 in December. The song describes the feeling of being home but still feeling escapist. All of the fun you have to escape and distract yourself is only temporary, as you simultaneously know you need to get out before you’re stuck there forever – “think I need to leave this town before I go down.” My working–class dad, the man I am proudest of in this world, has told me everyday in his broad Geordie accent that I need to ‘Leave Fast’ and get out of the North East. We both recognise how special Newcastle is, but also how soul-sucking the vicious cycle gets. It’s this attitude that got me to Cambridge, but also the one that makes me miss home more, even despite its flaws.

‘TV Dinner’ echoes the similar themes of privilege, class system and industry exploitation heard in ‘White Privilege,’ ‘Use (Live),’ and ‘Aye’ from his first two albums. Fender remarks his experiences of the people working in the industry, who suggest they’re the same, but also how he feels about that: “The chip on shoulder pulsates, my hatred, it mutates / Posh cunt had me irate, he said, ‘We’re all the same’.” The experience of being talked down to, undermined and snubbed is an experience most northerners in Cambridge are all too aware of. To subconsciously changing my accent, being told I should be grateful to be here, or that my northern status ticked a box for admissions tutors has almost certainly given me a chip off the shoulder.

If there’s one thing Geordies are known for, it’s friendliness. From growing up in what most would call a “rough” area, the people there would give you their last and look after you if you needed it and it’s this sentiment of being there for someone that comes across in ‘Something Heavy’: “So call me if you’re down, I’ll help you come around / The kettle on a rolling boil until it’s sorted out.” In my period of near–intermission and being sent home for half a term, it was my dad who kept the kettle on a rolling boil until I rejoined Cambridge. Everyone has their own baggage, it’s undeniable, regardless of who you are, but the spirit of community in Newcastle is second to none.

People Watching is a masterpiece. Fender is a real example of hometown pride, and of hometown comfort. Alas, this appreciation of Sam Fender is not one-sided; it is clear he also takes pride and comfort in North Shields and the North East, despite his meteoric rise to fame. His inclusion of Easington Colliery Band on ‘Remember My Name’ and his prioritisation of North-East fans on his Newcastle date in December is testament to this. No matter how changed Fender feels after his fame, one thing that definitely remains is his pure talent, which is certainly echoed in his new album. Regardless of whether I’m listening at home or in Cambridge, People Watching provides an extra level of Geordie comfort that seemingly only Fender can provide and I wouldn’t be surprised if he finds himself onto my Spotify Wrapped for another year in a row. In fact, I’d rather love it.

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