Sam Fender, “People Watching.”

British songwriter Sam Fender is perhaps best known for pulling from experiences of his coastal hometown of North Shields, along the Black Sea, including his own coming of age stories. Both his debut studio album, Hypersonic Missles, and follow-up Seventeen Going Under, offer raw and gritty vignettes of unemployment, suicide and survival, decades after the Thatcher-era economically destroyed much of the northeast of England. Unsurprisingly, Fender has earned himself the title of the “Geordie Boss” among many fans – a nod to his musical inspiration, Bruce Springsteen.

Now, the two-time BRIT-award-winner’s third and newest studio album, People Watching, continues this storytelling tradition, this time focusing on those closest to him alongside his own experiences and battles. Fender co-produced the record with bandmates Dean Thompson and Joe Atkinson, as well as Markus Dravs and The War On Drugs’ Adam Granduciel.

Though the album, much like Seventeen Going Under, may take a few listens to really land, it eventually reveals itself as an 11-track compilation that’s at once beautiful and devastating.

The album’s title track, co-produced with Granduciel, kicks things off with Fender’s signature sound: an energetic beat, captivating guitar riffs and wailing sax, mixed with poignant lyrics. The song takes inspiration from Fender’s time visiting with his late friend and mentor, British actress Anne Orwin, while she was ill and living in a care home – and his final moments with her the night she died.

“Oh, I stayed all night ’til you left this life ’cause that’s just love,” Fender sings.

The accompanying video features Dublin-born actor Andrew Scott (“Sherlock,” “Fleabag,” “All of Us Strangers”) as he tries to drink, smoke and party his way through his grief over a close friend’s death.

“Wild Long Lie,” though more subdued than the title track, is no less affecting. Fender sings of the pull of addiction and the need to escape home, as he laments in a deep, heartbreaking tone: “Think I need to leave this town/ ’Fore I go down.”

The artist chooses to use memorable vocal harmonies and easy-listening rhythms, paired with despairing lyrics in both “Nostalgia’s Lie” and “Something Heavy.” You’re left feeling gut-punched as the slightly more upbeat energy is directly at odds with the focus of loss and the heaviness of life.

Tracks like “Arm’s Length” and “Little Bit Closer” offer listeners a slightly lighter, more upbeat reprieve with pleasant guitar riffs and repetitive lyrics that feel ready-made for road-tripping.

On “TV Dinner,” Sam Fender changes direction. His lyrics and tone here feel particularly pointed, almost resentful, in a way that is reminiscent of “White Privilege” and “Poundshop Kardashians.” He breathily makes his way through the song, backed by piano chords and a synth-laden sound, barely taking a breath between words until the chorus: “No one gets in/ To my space.”

The closer, “Remember My Name,” features Fender soulfully singing of his late grandparents, through the perspective of his grandfather as he was looking after his wife when she was suffering from dementia. The song, reminiscent of Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now” and set to a brass arrangement, proudly reflects on a life made after a lifetime together.

Six years after the release of Hypersonic Missiles, Fender has gone through a journey and come out the other side: where his first album was a searing 100-mile-per-hour whirlwind, and his second a tighter, coming of age compilation, his third depicts his songwriting and musical acumen as less reactive and more reflective – with tight melodies and word to which you’ll keep coming back.