Saint Thomas

“There’s Only One of Me” is Saint Thomas’s sixth album. It is also the first release on his newly established record label, Cornerman Records, “The Honest Record Label”. “There’s Only One of Me” embodies everything the label stands for: the DIY (Do It Yourself) policy, the unpretentiousness of the artist behind the music (no image, no shine, no glamorous pretensions), and the honest, unpolished sound. All 14 songs on the record are written, produced and recorded by Saint Thomas (with help of Petter Pogo on bass and Alexander Lindbäck on drums). David-Ivar Herman Düne, from Saint Thomas’s favourite band Herman Düne, created the artwork. Except from a few monitors, this record didn’t cost anything to produce. As the label statement declares: “Cornerman Records likes to see itself as an opposition to everything that is fake. I wouldn’t like dolled-up, wanna-look-cool artists here. Admission to the company requires a clean, pure, and innocent approach from the people who want to come in.” In our age of bubblegum mentality, where music is made and thrown away the very next day, Cornerman Records represents an almost archaic honesty towards artists and their creations. No make-up or any forced gaiety. When Saint Thomas appears sad or distracted, it is because he is. Sad or distracted. Lonely or frightened. Alienated or blue.

Saint Thomas’s latest record is at the same time a return to the artistic approach of “Mysterious Walks” as well as a personal statement against a commercial and ever more cruel music industry. Musically and emotionally, it is stripped off all layers. It is naked, and it is uncompromising. It is a homecoming after a long, disturbing journey. It is like looking at a familiar scene with eyes that have aged dramatically along the road. It is, above all, a painfully honest exercise in self-reflection.

This record reminds us of the anonymity of Nick Drake during his lifetime (and the intimate charm of his music, as if made for his ears only), Roky Erickson coming down from a period of drug-induced insanity, and an ancient Bob Dylan stubbornly rocking on no matter what the critics say.

“There’s Only One of Me” continues the outsider-theme of “Children of the New Brigade”, but it feels like Saint Thomas has given up the dream of creating a comfortable army of fellow outsiders. This time, he is all alone. “How are you gonna be on your own /oh all that weight,” he sings in “Into Your Deep”, a hunting account of depression. The title track, “There’s Only One of Me”, reminds us of the lonesome destiny that is in store for each of us. Being “special” offers no protection against this fate.

In the first single, “My Morning”, Saint Thomas sings: “Don’t leave me with my doctor / on the telephone / he’ll set me up with some medicine / a medicated dog.” He puts his finger right where it hurts: on the despair that accompanies addiction. The song shudders with a feeling of alienation from a world in which he once felt safe. The security of childhood is forever lost. Sent out into the world, everything depends on your survival skills. Once again, Saint Thomas is alone in a world that appears hostile and alien, without the proper means to shield himself against it (the theme of “Only Yourself”).

In “The Famous Stalker”, Saint Thomas relates, in his own words, the much talked-about episode of London 2002: “I have forced my boss towards the wall / thrown expensive glasses in the Royal Albert Hall / Have you ever looked for the source of the problem / or will you never understand”. By concluding with “I’m not a good talker / instead I’ve become the famous stalker / You read about me in the newspaper / and laugh / believing every word / that goes around”, he throws the ball back to where it came from: to the ones who did not listen, to those who could not see beyond the outward aggression and into the pain that lay underneath.

There are some light moments on “There’s Only One of Me” as well: the nostalgic “Your Hotel”, which recounts the forlorn innocence of a school trip, or the tender “Movie Star”, dreamily acknowledging the fact that alone is only just alone. “Singing So So So” is a beautiful little song, telling of the joyous freedom of dancing on your own living room floor after an uncomfortable party experience.

However, this record is as confrontational, at times eerie, to listen to as it was for Saint Thomas to write. Looking at your own image in the mirror is not always pleasant. “Ten Stops More” illustrates the brutal insight Saint Thomas possesses into his own soul: “What are people made of / I don’t understand / Walk around like oiled machines / Survival of the fittest / If you put your eyes on me / I wish I was a turtle / I do not compete / Survival of the fittest”. Like the animal itself, Saint Thomas retreats in a turtle-like manner from the staring, judging eyes of strangers. Without a protective mask, one will always remain extremely vulnerable to the outside world. Saint Thomas does not own a mask. The cruel yet wonderful world reaches straight for his heart, and in return, Saint Thomas creates music that fires like an arrow into the hearts of those who care to listen.