Castigating the corporate, the collection serves as an attempt to purge a selection of particularly trying workplace experiences.  

Louie Barby, also known as Slow Cooked, worked in the sales department of a recycling company in Whitechapel. It was his first job in London, a nine to five corporate position defined by the weekly sales target. In this repetitive, chore-like environment, Barby faced an identity crisis, the ripples of which run through his debut EP ‘Plastic Values’. 

The collection feels suitably cathartic. Articulating his experience, Barby captures the monotonous, soul-draining workplace atmosphere in repetitious, harshly syncopated lyrics: “The smell of coffee, you chew my ear.” With the music thrumming behind, centred unusually around his lead cello, he expresses the monotonous nature of his job and the unshakeable despair that came with it.

It is vital to mention the usage of the cello on this EP. Barby’s command over the instrument gives ‘Plastic Values’ a uniquely theatrical atmosphere. The cello emits his woe and intensifies the sense of dread across its three tracks. As the EP progresses deeper into its frenzy, the cello develops, like a character in its own right, even taking its own mournful monologue in ‘Mice in Jeans.’

Barby sings with a special resentment in his voice, carrying his scathing commentary on the state of the job market, his lyrics elaborating personal experience into surreal metaphor and back again. ‘Mice in Jeans,’ for example, departs from its titular image as he chants, “For how long are you gonna sell bin bags? That’s not what I want.” Antipathy towards the career lifestyle feels particularly potent in the recent era of “bullshit jobs.” Meaningful material prospects for those who prioritise a career are disintegrating, while creative industries offer little opportunity to sustain oneself without maintaining a ‘normal job’ at the same time. The “mice” Barby speaks of are perhaps a product of the suppression and belittlement of this environment. The fact that he whispers the song while attempting to increase the power of his vocals anchors this impression.

Now, suppose that you were offered “free toast” as a perk of your sales department job. Such an experience hangs over the rest of the EP…

Second track, ‘Free Toast,’ opens with a dystopian backing track along with vocals that are much bolder than mere whispers. Resentment turns into vocal strength as the track reaches the peak of its intensity. Just after its halfway point, everything comes apart before coalescing once more, angrier but still harmonious. As the track climaxes it distorts itself with Barby howling “in the mood for money.”

Through his distorted howls emerges a character: ‘The Wolf of Whitechapel.’ The track forms an equally bizarre and intense rock anthem. If ‘Free Toast’ symbolises Barby’s uncontrolled, rageful delirium, ‘The Wolf of Whitechapel’ seems to learn from it, flowing with a more controlled form of dissent. Perhaps, the message across the whole EP is that you are either a mouse or a wolf in the sales department, though his ironic identification with the wolf suggests perhaps the frailty of the latter appearance.