Whilst still swirling with the echoes of previous influences such as The Velvet Underground, the Rolling Stones and emotionally connected to any number of older, purer blues artists, All Fucked Up sees Parfitt head into quieter sonic territory, the perfect balance between sweetness and vulnerability, pop accessibility and off-kilter outsiderness, hushed tones and heartfelt honesty.
And whilst there is a gorgeously paced minimalism to the song, it is the lyrics which cut straight to the heart. Parfitt gives us a song of longing, of departure, of leaving the urban noise behind you as you turn for home, of chance meetings and perhaps, new beginnings, of nostalgia and distant memories but narrated in such a vague way that there is room for many interpretations, something which all the best songs have in common.
It is a mesh of folk vibes and psychedelic tones, indie moves and understated grooves but it is also dreamlike and slightly otherworldly. And if all of this suggests hazy ambience, there is something raw and real about the words, something honest and vulnerable about the lyrics, the sound of hearts worn on sleeves, of scars worn like a badge of honour. If this is a love song, and I think it is, it is the most brutally honest one you will have heard in a long time. How refreshing.