Arlo Parks: An Artist Paving her Way to Success

Collapsed in Sunbeams an album of pristine lyricism, crunchy drums, and tender mantras has been a turning point for the west Londoner Arlo Parks. Producing SoundCloud demos in her childhood bedroom manifested into beating Celeste, BERWYN, and Wolf Alice for the 2021 Mercury award for best album. Parks has generated an explosion of musical success. 

She progressed from “feeling like that black kid who couldn’t dance for shit, listening to too much emo music and crushing on some girl in her Spanish class” to having her own headline tour across Europe, North America, and Australia. Parks’ two recent Grammy nominations for ‘Best New Artist’ and ‘Best Alternative Music Album’ reflect the span of her success. 

The indie-pop artist has received support and admiration from prestigious pop icons such as Lorde and Billie Eilish (the latter of which Parks will be the support act for in 2022). Gone are the days where Parks had under 100 listeners and in come the days where the Londoner has a loyal and far-reaching fanbase. Collaborations with the likes of Easy Life, Phoebe Bridgers and The Coyle-Larner Brothers have flourished alongside her solo projects, demonstrating the scope of her capabilities. Within Parks’ and Bridgers’ stripped-down cover of Fake Plastic Trees and Kyoto are luscious harmonies backed by mellow piano revealing Parks’ classical piano background. 

Running through her debut album is a ribbon of vulnerability, hope and euphoria. Black Dog’s release aptly coincided with the first UK lockdown, when poor mental health was spreading alongside the virus itself. The single addresses depression and the difficulty of supporting a loved-one through mental health struggles. “I’d lick the grief right off your lips” initiates a compassionate lyricism laced with intimacy. 

The 21-year-old’s proactive take on mental health awareness presents depression as a battleground, something to be fought against – not all emotions are permanent and will be lost in the flows of ordinary life. Hurt and Hope put this ideology in the spotlight, punctuating the album with optimism and elation through a sequence of gentle mantras- reminding you that pain “won’t hurt so much forever” and “you’re not alone”. 

Bluish points towards the idea of setting boundaries – “When I say I need some space/ I shouldn’t have to ask you twice”. She shuns venomous energy-vampires and prioritises self-care. Parks feels like an older sister, giving you advice and swathing you in hand-me-down wisdom and vintage sentimentality. Did I mention that I spent over 5000 minutes of my year with her music? 

A flood of unrequited love, heartbreak, and queer struggle ripples through the honest and sensual lyricism. Caroline- arguably the most visual song on the album- depicts an explosive breakup observed by Parks. “I was waiting for the bus one day/ watched a fight between an artsy couple escalate” commences the Radiohead inspired ballad. This is followed by the hook “Caroline” which Parks encourages her live audiences to echo back to her, unifying her listeners in the ubiquitous emotion of heartbreak. I can’t say I’m surprised I listened to Caroline over 200 times this year. 

The self-described “heartbreak anthem” Eugene explores the agony and jealousy associated with unrequited love whereas Green Eyes addresses internalised homophobia, and the hardships queer relationships face in modern society – “Could not hold my hand in public/ Felt their eyes judgin’ our love”. This tears the fabric of critical views that Collapsed in Sunbeams is in a spiral of sentimental wallowing shadowed by teenage angst. On the contrary, she’s on the Rainbow Road to accepting identity shifts and anguish you can grow out of. 

Whether you’re struggling to own your sexuality, weaving through the stages of heartbreak, or have a father who has failed you, Parks’ music will “kiss the damage” and catch you in your fall. In a society that has for so long failed to discuss vulnerabilities, Parks has filled a hole in communication, welcoming you, whoever you are, wherever you’re from, with open arms. 

When lockdown hit in 2020, Parks had to cancel her plans to tour alongside Hayley Williams across North America. For an upcoming artist, this forestalled momentum and provoked the fear of failure and oblivion. Or so you could have thought. In her BBC documentary, Arlo Parks: A Popstar in a Pandemic, Parks described how she allowed herself “to grieve for the year” which would have been before diving into her nostalgic album creation by sweeping through old journals and piecing poetry and beats together. 

Parks’ album is a constellation of emotion, elicited by inclusivity and vulnerability. Her songs are designed to be experienced collectively: so if you get the chance to see her live in-concert, go! – you’ll transcend heaven. Moreover, her talented band is electric: Dani Diodato plays angelic guitar solos and Madeleine Jones cushions the performance with groovy keys and backing vocals. Prepare to leave the show feeling viscerally peaceful and teary-eyed. 

I discovered Parks for the first time in 2018 when I was listening to the Radio. Immediately I was captivated by the potently sensory poetry peppered with velvet synths, mellow guitar, and crispy drums. Today, I’m in her top 0.005% of listeners, so perhaps this article is overenthusiastic. Nevertheless, her abundance of awards and popularity suggests it’s well deserved. 

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