“Time seemed to speed up and slow down,” he observes of lockdown. Songs for the Drunk and Broken Hearted ─ a 20-track project featuring stripped performances ─ is indebted as much to Rosenberg’s heartbreak as it is a fresh understanding of time. I remember feeling very mixed about the city.” There is a huge disparity of wealth in London, anyway, and it’s going more and more in that direction. It suddenly felt like this place where people were making shit decisions for all the wrong reasons. But there was this really sad undercurrent to it.
“We drove past Big Ben and the House of Parliament ─ and everything that’s beautiful about London. It was a bright, sunny afternoon, and the city seemed to pulse with both its ornate beauty and a swelling melancholy. Written initially during Brexit, Rosenberg was driving through London after a day of busking on street corners. “London in the Spring” underscores the constant emotional push and pull throughout the record and closes the album’s first half. They’re stories that still should be told,” he adds. “There’s a real beauty in the everyday and the mundane.
Rosenberg has frequently chosen the unextraordinary stories to share in his work, rather than the obviously heroic or extraordinary. It’s very simple, but it’s an idea that’s a recurring theme throughout my writing.” The only time you understand what you had is after the fact. There’s something so sad and basic about when you’re young and you have it all,” he says, “but there’s no way of understanding that. “It’s something that happens to everyone, and none of us can outrun the hands of time. It definitely takes the listener on a journey in the middle section.” “It’s probably the biggest moment on the album. I like how it starts quite subtly and then gently builds,” he observes. “I definitely knew it needed that slow build into something quite chaotic. Hushed vocals gallop across a cinematic soundscape, beginning soft and moody before erupting into a topsy-turvy production. She’d be sort of used to life on her own, and then, I’d burst in with my suitcase and big personality. “In my last relationship, I felt like I would go on tour for months and come back home and my girlfriend would be in her routine. Later, Rosenberg veers outside of his comfort zone for the swirling “Sandstorm,” on which he splits apart roles as working musician and (now-ex) boyfriend. I didn’t want to make it a coattails situation.” “I didn’t want to do ‘featuring Ed Sheeran’ or anything like that. We’re friends, and we genuinely worked on the song together,” he continues. I don’t want to dine out on the Ed Sheeran thing too much.
I’m very lucky to have friends like him.” To have someone like him come and do a version is beyond a privilege. His musical understanding and ear is exceptional. I’d sent him this song cause I was really excited about it,” he says. “There’s always been talk of a duet or working together in some capacity. Next Friday (January 15), Rosenberg will release a “Gingerbread Mix” of the song, produced by Ed Sheeran, a long-standing friend with whom he got his start busking back in the day. The juxtaposition between the two is a really powerful thing.” Then, the chorus is this big explosion of honesty. It’s almost like you’re writing a letter to someone or speaking to them on the phone. “What I think is really powerful about this song is the verses are very conversational. Being separated from people and being on your own in a way that none of us have really experienced before” fueled the emotional core like a steam locomotive, he says. “There’s a real isolation and desperation to it. Among the new additions is album opener “Sword from the Stone,” a plaintive tune that “sounds so lockdown-y,” as he puts it.
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