Joy Crookes Makes Soul Music for People Who Overthink Everything
Joy Crookes is one of those artists who makes me feel immediately suspicious of the phrase “up and coming,” because it can sound so flimsy compared to what is actually happening in the music. Joy does not feel flimsy. By mid-January 2020, she had already released the EPs Reminiscence and Perception in 2019, landed on the BRITs Rising Star shortlist, and placed on NME’s new-artist radar for the year.
What gets me first is the voice. Not because it is huge, though it can carry weight. Not because it is instantly “classic,” though people will absolutely say that. It is because she sounds like she has lived inside her songs long enough to know where every line should land. There is a conversational intelligence to her phrasing that makes even a small vocal turn feel intentional. She does not just sing melodies; she shades them.
And then there is the writing, which is the real reason I keep coming back. Joy Crookes writes like someone who notices people properly. She catches the contradictions, the vanity, the ache, the boredom, the cultural clutter, the little emotional self-protections people build around themselves. A lot of young artists are either all vibe or all confession. Joy manages to be observant without becoming cold, and personal without becoming indulgent. That balance is rare.
The easiest thing to say about her music is that it pulls from soul, jazz, and pop. That is true, but it is also too neat. What I hear is someone using those traditions to make room for character. There is texture in her songs, but never so much that the song disappears into aesthetic moodboarding. She understands that style should support a point of view, not replace one.
What I especially appreciate is that she does not present complexity as a branding exercise. Plenty of artists right now are very invested in seeming nuanced, worldly, politically aware, emotionally complicated. Joy Crookes comes across as someone who actually is those things, which is much more convincing and, frankly, much less annoying. There is wit in the music, too, and wit is underrated. Not irony for its own sake, not detachment, but real wit: a sense that the artist is awake to the absurdity around her.
If I have a hesitation, it is only this: sometimes the sophistication of the writing and the richness of the arrangements can make me want an even rawer edge somewhere in the mix. Not less craft, just an occasional crack in the surface. But that is not really a criticism so much as a sign that I think she can carry even more risk than she is already taking.
In an era when so much “smart” pop still feels overly packaged, Joy Crookes stands out because her intelligence is baked into the songs, not sprayed on afterward. She sounds self-possessed, but not self-satisfied. She sounds stylish, but not hollow. She sounds like an artist who is building a catalogue rather than chasing a moment.
That matters to me more than hype ever will. Hype expires. A voice like this, paired with songwriting this emotionally literate, usually doesn’t.