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head of her 2021 debut album 'Skin', Joy Crookes looked set to follow in the footsteps of Adele, Amy Winehouse and other incredible female singers from the UK. She'd been shortlisted for the Rising Star award at the BRITs the year before, alongside Beabadoobee and Celeste, and placed fourth on the BBC's Sound Of poll. The gorgeous coming-of-age album took influence from R&B, soul and pop, and snagged a Mercury Prize nod - but follow-up album 'Juniper' weaves in moments of jazz, hip-hop and post-punk.

Joy started creating 'Juniper' in early 2022, while still riding high on the success of 'Skin'. There was a lot of hedonism, and even more pressure, but she laid out some ground rules to stop herself believing her own hype. That meant recreating the environment she was in when she first started making music as a teenager. "When you've had some success, it's really easy to start believing that everything you do is fucking sick. I needed limitations, and just really wanted to engage in play at every opportunity." She ended up going back to the things she loved most growing up, "when music was fun, and no one was waiting for me to release something."

By the time 2023 rolled around, though, Joy was in the midst of a mental health crisis and had left an abusive relationship. It only added to the boldness of 'Juniper'. "There's something to be said for the general fuck-it-ness that comes from feeling incredibly depressed and anxious," she says. "I was feeling terrible and didn't have the mental bandwidth to care about anything other than what I wanted to do. I didn't feel like I needed to prove anything to anyone - I just needed to become myself." 'Juniper' tracks that journey.

The first half of the album sees Joy coming to terms with everything that was going on, while the second half follows her decision to "deal with all the shit".

The swaggering 'Mathematics' and funk-driven 'Brave' are about being vulnerable and connecting with someone while going through a tough time. The twisting 'House With A Pool' tackles the effects of abuse and "not thinking you'd ever be in that situation where you made yourself so small". Ravey' First Last Dance' was written after Joy's anxiety had gotten so bad, she was physically throwing up, while the pulsating 'Mother' looks at generational trauma. The delicate, introspective 'Forever' is about grief, and the lush, pulsing close of 'Paris' celebrates a queer relationship where Joy "got to be who I really am for a moment". That final track gently fades away, "because this is the beginning of my journey. It's not the end, and I don't think there has to be a resolve."

A few months ago, Joy was signing vinyl copies of 'Juniper' and started crying. "It really hit me how much time had passed since 'Skin'."

"I was worried people had forgotten about me, and I got really upset at the fact that I was sick for so much of the making of this record. I wish I could have been better and released it sooner, because the songs came together easily enough. The hard thing was life." Her manager gave her a stern talking to: "You're fucking here, and that is the most important thing. You survived, and that is to be celebrated." Since then, Joy's felt a lot more triumphant. "I have a quiet confidence about this album."

There are flashes of anger across 'Juniper', but Joy constantly turns towards something more hopeful. "Rage just didn't answer any questions for me. You can definitely ride on angst, but it gets to the point where you realise that's a symptom, not the cause," she explains. It's the same with the jealousy-inspired 'Carmen'. "Instead of being envious about this other woman who seems like they get everything handed to them, it's a song about hopefully feeling like her one day."

"It always returns to love, which is really important," says Joy. On 'Skin', she caused waves with the politically charged 'Kingdom', which dealt with the hopelessness she felt after Boris Johnson's Tory party won a majority in the 2019 general election.

"Someone asked me the other day why this album isn't as outwardly political, but to me, 'Juniper' feels a lot more political," says Joy. "It's how you interpret that hope. Right now, I'm not scared of going online and seeing what people are saying. I'm fearful of how they're behaving in the world. There's this moral litmus test with Gaza - debating a genocide that's clearly happening right in front of us - and how trans people are treated. Right now, there are fascist flags in [my hometown] of Peckham. I feel a deep need to apply myself in the world right now, and I think love should always lead. To be able to have a touch of optimism in a time of real darkness is an entirely political act."

Lola Young, CMAT and Celeste have made her feel like she's not alone. "I'm not trying to slander anyone, but they're some of the only artists I feel are putting their foot forward and doing it with real authenticity. I'm really excited by them, and it feels like they have something to say with their music. All three of them give me so much hope."

Joy has spent the past week at home, cooking - prawn dumplings are on the menu this Tuesday morning - and reflecting on the record. "It's given me a chance to contemplate what I'm putting out. It's a very vulnerable album. I'm really proud of it, but I'm also slightly nervous."

"I want to be here for a long time and a good time, not a short, fireworky time," she continues. "I'm not really interested in virality, and I'm getting more comfortable with that." The singles from 'Juniper' have done well, but there's also a hunger from fans for the whole record. "It's almost like people care about albums," she grins. "The most beautiful thing about music is when it feels like your favourite artist wrote a song for you. If this record can be met with some kind of solidarity or emotional response, that would be amazing."

"I do feel lighter now, though. It feels very selfish how much I can't wait to perform these songs live and reap the rewards from what I'm calling the fruits of my labia," she smiles. "I can't wait for all that catharsis." ■