Ten o’clock in the evening on 12th December 2019 felt like more than just a defeat in a general election for the party i was a member of at that point. It felt like a repudiation of everything good in the world – a rejection of kindness, of compassion, of community. A moment where it seemed like we were headed into five years of Tory cruelty and flag-shagging nationalism; a world where sticking Union Jacks on lampposts apparently constitutes “pride” while asylum seeker hotels get demonised on the front pages.
But the world isn’t like that. I work in the charity sector, and I see great people doing great things for vulnerable people every single day. Kindness does exist. And that’s exactly where Beans On Toast – aka Jay McAllister – steps in. Every year on 1st December, without fail, he releases a new record to mark his birthday. “Kill Them With Kindness”, following last year’s “Wild Goose Chasers”, is this year’s present to himself – and to us.
Unlike the previous piano-based detour, this one is back to what you might call classic Beans: warm, melodic, funny, furious, and hopeful all at once. “The Great North Road” opens the record by celebrating the joy of making art for the sake of it, helped beautifully by poet Bassie Gracie, whose verse about needing to create until the day she dies feels tailor-made for Jay himself.
“Gods, Children and Robots” pulls no punches, looking squarely at the state of the world – genocide in Palestine, global conflicts, the endless cycle of cruelty – while “Comfortable in the Counterculture” searches for a route away from the mainstream noise entirely. “Pelican Crossing” reflects on the needless reinvention of things that didn’t need fixing in the first place, while “The Fall of the Establishment” is exactly what you’d expect: a lament for a kinder world, and a belief that such a world really does exist.
“The Glastonbury Oak” finds solace in the small things, while “A Real Rock ’n’ Roller” is a belting tale of Lorraine Burgon, a friend of Beans and a figure on the late-60s/70s rock scene – girlfriend of Alvin Lee and present for the Rolling Stones drugs bust. It’s told with real affection, as is “Big Night Out in Shrewsbury”, and “That’s Why I Don’t Drink Tequila Anymore”, where he probably knows better but enjoys the fun of the story anyway.
“Taylor Swift for President” feels like something Frank Turner will cover on his next tour, while “Our Cat” is exactly what you’d expect a Beans On Toast song about his cat to be: glorious, joyful, and a celebration of how much happiness a small creature can bring to a family.
“Happy Birthday Baby” is a sweet, romantic moment for his wife, and the record ends with “Magicians and Outlaws”, a celebration of life on the road – because that, ultimately, is what drives Beans. The gigs, the people, the stories, the belief that music might make the world a better place, even if only for a night.
Listening to the album this year, I realise I know three birthdays with confidence – my two nieces, and Beans’ own. His annual tradition of releasing a birthday record means that “Kill Them With Kindness” is as much a present to us as it is to him, a gift of hope, humour, and humanity in equal measure.
And today, when the news is full of Stephen Yaxley-Lennon desperately trying to start a Twitter storm because he saw Gary Lineker with a woman who turned out to be his daughter-in-law, you could be forgiven for thinking the world is a hateful place. But it isn’t. Not while artists like Beans On Toast are out there reminding us that hope still exists, that kindness still wins, and that cynicism isn’t compulsory.
That’s why “Kill Them With Kindness” matters. That’s why it’s one of the finest albums of the year. Not a machine that kills fascists, but one that defeats them with empathy, humour, community, and hope.
RATING 9.5/10
