Kate Tempest review, The Book of Traps and Lessons: Poet is still a pessimist on this strangely uninspired album

Ahead of a summer where most contemporary artists seem to be pivoting back to upbeat, optimistic pop, it’s strangely comforting to hear Kate Tempest is still predicting the apocalypse.

The spoken-word poet, who has received nods from judges of both the Mercury and Ted Hughes prizes, returns from 2016’s Let Them Eat Chaos with The Book of Traps and Lessons: a meandering, 11-track collection of poetry against stark instrumentation.

Compared to the sharp grooves and hip-hop influences of its predecessor, tracks on this album are often backed by a lonely violin, organ refrain or whirring electronic beat. This works best on “Hold Your Own”, where the 33-year-old intones the words like a hymn read in church, offering soothing encouragement to assert one’s own identity. On other tracks, the rhythm tends to peter out and Tempest’s trembling delivery of certain words, with the intention of giving them an air of profundity, can quickly become tiresome.

The single “Firesmoke” is a standout, a tenderly intimate, loving study that is universal in its depiction of the chaos of love, but starkly personal for Tempest in the reference of her hometown: “The fire, rises between us/ And makes us get on the wrong trains/ Walk the wrong way/ Make strangers smile greetings on Lewisham Way.”

Tempest, who introduced spoken-word poetry to an entirely new generation with the release of her 2014 debut, Everybody Down, seems conflicted about her status as a kind of prophetic messiah for disillusioned youth. Her blistering, headline-making performance at Glastonbury in 2017 bolstered that reputation, as she howled and railed against corrupt politicians and consumerism.

She is a masterful live performer, and when she recites her work it’s often difficult to take your eyes off her. Yet on this album, you find yourself drifting in and out. She tackles trolls, racism, overpopulation and the internet age. You crave solutions as each track closes, or perhaps more of those sublime, witty character studies she offered on Let Them Eat Chaos. But in this day and age, it’s easy to understand how Tempest could sound so uninspired.