I first came across Gabi Garbutt when she was a support act for Grace Petrie in 2024. Armed with just an acoustic guitar and delightfully thoughtful, wordy lyrics, she instantly grabbed my attention. I toyed with buying Cockerel (2022), at the time her latest album, from the merch desk but wasn’t sure how her songs would transfer to a full band backing. I decided to leave it, and to check her out on Spotify instead.

Just a few seconds into opening track Bad Boy Bird – a song I remembered from the show – I knew I had made a big mistake in not buying the album at the gig (and put that right by ordering a copy from Bandcamp immediately). An infectious electric guitar figure wraps itself over a relentless driving snare drum, providing a powerful and sinuous backing for Gabi’s characteristically artful wordplay. By the time the horns kick in for the chorus (the album was produced by sometime Dexy’s Midnight Runner Sean Reed, a connection that makes sense once you’re aware of it) I knew I was listening to something special.

She’s a fine singer, but for me it’s the words themselves, more than the delivery, that stand out. Every track features at least one turn of phrase that jumps out and grabs you, demanding your attention and drawing you into the song. The lyrics repay the close attention that only comes with prologued exposure, and the music is hooky enough to encourage constant rotation: a perfect combination. I’ll admit that Garbutt’s turn of phrase fed into my writing when I was working on the early drafts of Imogen Imagine – the description of Jen’s firecracker smile, for example, is a nod to observations on this album.

Track after track delivers, and I could easily write in detail about any one of them. Two common themes in Garbutt’s lyrics are mental health and the environment, but it’s a much more uplifting experience than that might make it sound. There’s a raucous indy-pop energy to many of the songs, and even when she gets more wistful, as on Your Blues or I Can’t Win, it’s infused with a something that defies despair. Songs like Never Never are simply bursting with life, even while singing about ‘the very last notes of his pain’.

For me the high point comes with a trio of songs towards the end of the album. Habit of Sadness begins with another crunchy guitar figure before staring down ‘the hollow clanging deep inside our souls’ and wrapping it in something joyous (that euphoric exploration of the dark proving to be something of a stock in trade). Sea Organ is more of a character study, with a story that only gives up its secrets with repeated listens, and it’s all the more precious for needing patient unpacking. Perhaps best of all – and, like Sea Organ, a song that made it onto my Imogen Imagine playlist – is Angel of 3rd Avenue. Guitars, organ and horns combine irresistibly in another effervescent celebration of a life refusing to give in to despair. It was inspired by someone Garbutt knew who died of advanced renal failure, but who refused to just succumb to her frailties – ‘your spirit dragging your body around and covering it in scars’. Another line that stuck me was ‘you believed in tomorrow more than anyone that I’ve ever known’.

Cockerel is a blissful, energetic, joyous blast of life-affirming positivity. It’s not afraid to plumb the depths, but it always lifts me up. This is what music does so much better than almost anything else, and this album does it better than most. If you’ve never heard it, it’s well worth 35 minutes of your time. I’d be surprised if you leave at just the one listen.