“It’s the result of lines drawn in the sand, hours of reflection, relationships moulded and relationships melted,” Peter Bibby tells Apple Music of his fourth album. Bibby has embarked on an enormous inner journey in recent years, and much of the record reflects on his hard-won growth, particularly regarding taking accountability, letting go of old habits and embracing sobriety. The Fremantle-based singer-songwriter recorded the album in Melbourne with producer and guitarist Dan Luscombe, marking not only their first collaboration, but the first time Bibby had ever worked with a producer. As such, the album feels more focused and refined than anything he’s released before—in a good way. Bibby’s jangly, hazy rock sound hasn’t gone anywhere, but it’s tighter and more concentrated, glinting with furious energy that sharpens its heaviest moments and deepens those of raw vulnerability. Read on as Bibby talks through each track on Drama King. “The Arsehole” “I was in the process of losing a lot of friends when I wrote this song, mostly through my own faults. Nothing like taking a shitty situation and turning it into a song, I always say. This was a fun one to record. Dan and I decided to use a drum loop which put a robotic spine in the back of this semi-bent-over-barnyard-jig-type thing.” “Fun Guy” “It’s a fun song about quitting fun. A bit gross, a bit self-deprecating, a bit of a banger. Rather than a drum loop, we just went full drum machine with this one, taking a few hints from Suicide’s first album. We laid the whole thing down in a few hours on my first day in the studio, setting the tone for a disgustingly productive few weeks.” “Bin Boy” “Could this be the world’s first song written from the perspective of a wheelie bin? I think it might be. The song marks a clear connection between man and bin—we’re not so different after all. I went full guitar hero on the solo and was very pleased when the backing vocals lifted the song to a whole other level.” “The One” “It’s a trepidatious love song, full of self-doubt and the knowledge that nothing is perfect. Gus [Agars, drummer] and Dan thought I was a bit wacko when I hit them with the drum break idea, but once we pulled it off it was all smiles and pats on the back, and sentences like, ‘Hey, great idea Peter!’” “Bruno” “Who is Bruno? You may never know but you are welcome to keep pondering. This is a bit of an outcast’s lament—a pity tale about a victim of the cancel enthusiasts, the keyboard warriors, the snobs.” “Baby Squid” “I tried to get a heartbeat thing happening with the kick drum and bass—the heartbeat that slowly fades from us all until we’re dead. It’s what this song is about, as well as addiction, relapse, loss and attempting to fill the ever-present void. It’s by far one of my favourite songs on the album.” “Terracotta Brick” “I came up with this while I was working as a brickie’s labourer. I took a direct quote or two from the boss, he was full of great lines. He was also full of piss [alcohol] on a regular basis, and it got me thinking about the connection between the building industry and celebrated alcoholism. I tried to make a beautiful, sad song about it. For once, I think I succeeded. Dan didn’t like my guitar solo, but he’s never worked on a construction site. So he obviously didn’t understand the guitar technique I was using, which I like to call ‘tradie’s tears’.” “Turtle in the Sand” “It’s a bit of a tearjerker, and the oldest song on the record—about 13 years old. My pal Racoo always begged me to put it on a record, and I finally caved. I think it has the most ‘live band’ feel out of all the songs on the record, a refreshing change among all the drum machine synthesiser dance tracks.” ”Feels” “Do you ever get the feeling that you’re floating in meaningless, directionless space? That there really isn’t any point to any of it? Well, here’s a song for you. It’s funny that I ended up recording this with Dan because, when I wrote this riff, I thought it sounded like The Drones [who Luscombe played with until their 2016 hiatus]. I let him play lead guitar on this one because, let’s face it, he’s better at guitar than me.” “The Pricks” “One night while working at Mojos Bar, I was punched in the face by a dickhead named George—and the following day, I wrote this song. I touch on a few topics in the lyrics, but for the most part, it’s about an inability to communicate effectively leading to a punch in the face. The string section sounds like a wedding to me, a marriage of fist and face.” “Old DC” “The youngest song on the album, I wrote this about a month before going into the studio. It’s very sad to me, about the ending of a very dear friendship and the reason this album was recorded in Melbourne rather than Fremantle. Anyway, I think it sounds gorgeous. Dan really brought the tears with his beautiful slide playing, and Myles [Anderson] complements it so well with his violin.” “Companion Pony” “It’s about cancel culture and good mates. There was a lot of that going on while I was writing this album. I found it all incredibly boring, so I decided to forget about the bullshit and focus on my ripper good mates. It was hard to record, with Gus deciding to go all free jazz on the drums and not give us any real rhythm to track over. But we worked it out. And if you play this song backwards, there’s a secret message in it.”