Dry Cleaning Perfect Their Sound on Stumpwork

Graphic by Monika Krueger

By Parker Bennett

When it comes to Dry Cleaning’s sophomore LP, Stumpwork, the London indie-rock quartet’s mantra seems relatively simple: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Relative greenhorns to the indie-rock scene, the band crept into the zeitgeist with their 2019 EP, Magic of Meghan (dedicated to Meghan Merkle), and instantly established a discernable style. Hypnotic guitar riffs and steady drum rhythms, topped with front-woman Florence Shaw’s ear-catching spoken word vocals. Since Magic of Meghan, each of the band’s releases—including their excellent debut New Long Legs (2021)— have stuck rather faithfully to their established formula, gradually honing in punchier rhythms, catchier melodies, and even more intriguing poeticism from Shaw. Stumpwork isn’t much of a departure from New Long Legs and the band’s other work, but it’s still the tightest and most well put-together project they’ve put out so far.

As with much of their past music, Stumpwork finds beauty and borderline obsession in the mundanity of day-to-day life. The title itself refers to a style of fabric embroidery, which in the hands of any other band, would be a fairly boring topic of discussion. However, just like how Joni Mitchell can turn a greasy skillet into a veritable geyser of artistic inspiration, Dry Cleaning embraces the many insignificant portions of life and transforms them into symbols of self-discovery, romance, and existential dread.

 Of course, Shaw’s vocals are the most striking piece of the equation. Her muttered, spoken-word musings wander aimlessly across sonic backdrops of languid discomfort, creating an air of spontaneity that gives the listener the impression that everything that’s said is being captured on the spot. Across the board, her lyrics are transfixing, befuddling, and wryly hilarious. At no point during the album does her volume exceed more than a gentle hum, and it instead falls on guitarist Tom Dowse, bassist Lewis Maynard, and drummer Nick Buxton to fill the gaps with instrumentation. And fill them they do; the playing on this album is a distinct improvement on their past work, and nearly every track is centered by an instantly memorable melody that slowly expands to unexpected corners of funk, ambient, and synth-pop. In the past, some Dry Cleaning projects have suffered slightly under the weight of sounding somewhat one-note, but Stumpwork re-evaluates their sound into a recipe that feels fresh and engrossing track after track.

“Anna Calls From the Arctic” kicks the project off with an instantly shoe-tapping percussive backbeat, and the wonderfully moody inclusion of muffled saxophones droning in the mix. As always, Shaw’s lyrics are an incomparable mixture of batshit and relatable, and her voice sounds almost like a Notes App confession, recorded just inches from the microphone. There’s laughs to be had, (“If you are rich and look good that’s not news”), smiles to be given (“I like it when you can see inside houses from a car, it’s cozy”), and potential tears to be shed (“Looks like strains and set-backs are on the way for my sad little worker”). It’s a cathartic way to begin the album, and each time the chorus hits, with Shaw humming quietly in tune with the saxophone, it feels like an emotional release from the bombardment of images, thought bubbles, and emotions her words have just stirred up. The song concludes with a minute-long instrumental outro that simply repeats the main riff of the track, beautifully played on a mournful, howling synth. It’s a stunning introduction to the album, and one that I personally had to loop three times before I felt fulfilled enough to move onto the rest of the tracklist.

Things move in a distinctly New Wave direction with “Kwenchy Kups,” which lets Buxton’s percussion take a wonderfully inventive center-stage, accompanied by shakers, rim-shots, and shuffling snares. The guitar is also impeccable here, with the melody that accompanies Shaw’s “Things are shit, but they’re gonna be OK” chorus being one of the most memorable on the album. The song comes to an unexpected close with an almost seamless transition into “Gary Ashby”, making the two feel like companion pieces in some way. Here, the guitars twang with significantly more edge, and Shaw’s vocalization actually strays more into song than spoken word. “Gary Ashby” exemplifies one of Dry Cleaning’s greatest calling cards: an ability to partner disconcerting suspense with rose-tinted nostalgia, a dichotomy that is expressed equally through the music and Shaw’s fascinating lyrics. 

“Driver’s Story” further exemplifies this trait, providing the most heavy and ominous instrumentation of the album, resulting in a moody, head-bobbing experience. Grounded by a steady bassline, the guitar here wanders on idiosyncratic twists and turns, always managing to return to some sort of harmonic conclusion that feels satisfactory each and every time. The playing here is so good, it might be the only track on the album where Shaw feels somewhat like a back-up singer, and fantastic lyrics like “I’ve lost a jelly shoe, embedded in my innards” can fly under the radar. 

“Hot Penny Day” is a surprising but undeniably welcome detour into Dry Cleaning’s version of funk, which has the most stand-out basswork on the whole album. Tracks like this show just how far Dry Cleaning and their sound has come; it’s still a tertiary cousin of all their past songs, but everything works in a way that their music simply hasn’t before. The buzzing saxophone, paired with the face-scrunching guitar riffs, and some of Shaw’s tightest writing (“I don’t want to empty your bank account and give you nightmares, but we’re in the middle of what they call three financial eclipses”) all make a combination that is nothing short of addictive. 

The rest of the tracklist continues with similar consistency. Lead single “No Decent Shoes For Rain” is a particularly notable moment that sees further synergy from the band exemplified better than ever before, randomly interrupted by unmixed, raw pieces of audio that feel like fly-on-the-wall insights into the studio recording. On this track, Shaw definitely steals the show, and her gentle yet biting delivery of lines like “Let’s eat pancake” is at the very heart of what makes Dry Cleaning special. “Conservative Hell” (my personal favorite) is a coming-of-age-movie ready ballad that showcases the most gentle and gorgeously bittersweet instrumentation of the album. Here, Shaw’s hyper specific cultural references lend to a feeling of intimacy with the listener that few songwriters can rival. The first half is a certified indie-pop bop, and the second half expands into lush, horn-heavy ambience that makes you want to loop the whole thing over and over again.

When all is said and done, Stumpwork is a triumphant moment in Dry Cleaning’s career thus far, and takes all the best things about the debut and hammers it into catchy, concise moments that simply ooze with feeling. Despite being a relatively quiet and subdued album, Stumpwork feels bursting with life and energy, and Shaw’s unique outlook on the world around her, paired with the incredible instrumentation of the band’s musical players makes for some of the strongest indie-rock music this year, and sets the bar considerably higher for what the band can achieve in the future.