BC Camplight – ‘A Sober Conversation’ album review: A delight from the depths of despair

Posted On June 26, 2025June 26, 2025

THE SKINNY: Trauma and disaster seem to follow Brian Christinzio around every corner, but from these moments of darkness have come the bulk of BC Camplight’s most acclaimed works. From 2015’s How to Die in the North, which explores the chaos of his move from the US to Manchester, to 2023’s The Last Rotation of Earth that documents the collapse of a long-term relationship, each of his projects has attempted to unpack the specific details of his misfortune, all with a great degree of dark humour and pristine pop rock.

His seventh release, A Sober Conversation, is at once no different from previous releases in how it grapples with personal struggles. It is also radically different in how it digs deep into his past rather than reflecting solely on recent events in his life. It also happens to be his most personal outing to date, with the overarching theme of the album being Christinzio’s journey to process the traumatic experience of the abuse he suffered during childhood while attending summer camp, and the struggles with addiction that he has used as a means of erasing these memories until recently.

It’s a brave decision to confront one of the darkest episodes of your life at all, let alone to do it on a record that will be heard by thousands of listeners, but Christinzio manages to address every struggle of his in such a refreshingly candid manner without ever wallowing in self-pity too much. Whenever things do appear to be more self-deprecating, it’s delivered with his trademark wit that allows the listener to relate to him on a more personal and human level.

A Sober Conversation is stacked with tear-jerking moments that see Christinzio hit a personal rock bottom, but it balances itself out with so many memorable one-liners that you’ll find yourself wondering whether to laugh or cry. In reality, it’s a record for both extremes, and while it’s as deeply personal as it gets, you can’t help but admire the mental fortitude that Christinzio has put himself through to want to address this in such stunning fashion.

It’s theatrical, chaotic and cathartic, and while that’s sort of what you’d expect from a BC Camplight album at this point, he might well have honed it to a point of near perfection on A Sober Conversation. It’s perhaps the finest release of his career from start to finish, and that’s beating some stiff competition.

For fans of: Deflecting from all of your problems with jokes that only the most twisted minds are likely to laugh at.

A concluding comment from Brian’s therapist: “I guess this wasn’t what I had in mind for being the time and place for joking either, but I’m glad you’re letting it all out.”

A Sober Conversation track by track: 

Release Date: June 27th | Producer: Brian Christinzio | Label: Bella Union

‘The Tent’: Christinzio continues the long-standing tradition of opening his records boldly with a track that immediately introduces the overarching themes of the album. In this instance, we’re introduced to all of the trauma that he’s choosing to process, and all of the methods that he’s trying to overcome his struggles with, such as cutting out caffeine and learning Italian. A typical prog-pop opus that we’ve come to expect from BC Camplight, all things considered. [4.5/5]

‘Two Legged Dog’: With the help of some sublime guest vocals from The Last Dinner Party’s Abigail Morris, this lilting soft rock track has plenty of the dark humour that Christinzio has always peppered his compositions with, but there are flashes of hope in amongst the despair when the gigantic swells of piano and synth come in. [4/5]

‘A Sober Conversation’: While upbeat in the musical elements, the title track is perhaps as downbeat as things get in terms of the lyrical content, although there are moments of comedic reprieve as Christinzio gets haunted by nightmarish visions of John Cleese and opens up to his therapist about not liking David Bowie in a misguided attempt to deflect from his issues. All of the key emotions are being grappled with here, and the album’s challenging themes are now in full flow. [4.5/5]

‘When I Make My First Million’: A sombre piano ballad brings the tempo down, but it’s on tracks like this where the arrangements aren’t quite as crowded, where the truly stunning intricacies of Christinzio’s songwriting come into clearer view. The chord progressions are to die for, and the string and flute flourishes just add to the gorgeously bittersweet feel of the track, perhaps the highlight of the record. [4.5/5]

‘Where Are You Taking My Baby?’: The driving rhythm of the cellos and optimistic twinkling synths feels like they’re symbolic of a breakthrough taking place in Christinzio’s mind after the growing introspective angle of the opening four songs. It’s not a complete overhaul of the negativity, but you feel as though progress is aptly being made with the album’s centrepiece. [4/5]

‘Bubbles in the Gasoline’: The mood continues to lift, and there’s a spring in both Christinzio’s step and the repeating piano motif. It’s refreshing to hear him continue to make positive steps and find new avenues to seek joy in, which is highlighted by the guest appearance from his partner, Jessica Branney, where the duo end up roleplaying what appears to be an early date. [3.5/5]

‘Rock Gently in Disorder’: What initially promises to be a slow heartbreaker unravels when the chorus arrives, and does so in emphatic fashion. Christinzio best acknowledges how he’s still grappling with tough emotional unrest in his description of the song: “I might be owning my life, but it doesn’t mean it’s not going to hurt. It’s always going to hurt.” [4.5/5]

‘Drunk Talk’: Christinzio is still drawing from his big book of gallows humour as he reflects on his days of getting wasted that are now behind him, but unfortunately the sluggishness of the track compared to the bombast of ‘Rock Gently in Disorder’ brings things down a couple of notches from one of the record’s high points. [3.5/5]

‘Leaving Camp Four Oaks’: An instrumental closer that feels akin to the work of Jean-Michel Jarre or Vangelis, and represents Christinzio attempting to move on after processing the traumatic events of ‘The Tent’, giving a great sense of closure to a harrowing, yet strangely hilarious and cathartic listen. [3.5/5]

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