Antony Szmierek on the year his life changed, as ‘Service Station at the End of the World’ lands in Dork’s Best Albums of 2025

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t’s been a decade since Antony Szmierek released his debut album. Well, ‘Service Station at the End of the World’ was actually released back in February, but to Antony it feels that long. “It honestly feels like ten years old to me. It’s so strange how quickly your brain moves on from it,” he marvels. Currently holed up in an attic room in Bristol, he’s there putting the finishing touches to AS2. It would seem he’s come a long way from the chap who wrote ‘Yoga Teacher’ three years ago. “That’s quite a long time… I’m no longer the boy I was.”

Thanks to a dizzying pace, he’s gone from being an English teacher to a bona fide touring musician in the space of a couple of years. Describing 2025 as “the year my life changed,” he remembers discussing in interviews last year how “the same” things felt. That’s not to say things have been entirely shaken up, but now he’s out and about, living the life of a restless artist. He recalls a time last year when it seemed like everything was going right. “[It felt like] I turned my phone over three times a day and my life had changed, like a huge thing would happen. You know, you booked Jools Holland, you’re going to go to Glastonbury… I think the album sounds a bit like that,” he says. “It sounds a bit like hope and joy and the excitement of that time. It’s nice to have that documented.”

“It’s so obviously and earnestly me on stage”

While Antony adores the ideas and period encapsulated on ‘Service Station’, he’s also clear that it’s not a ring road to be travelled endlessly – it’s complete. Even the album cover points to the singularity of it all. “Having that snow globe on the cover, it’s this bubble universe, and it was a place to go, a place that felt positive and a place that felt hopeful when set against the world.” Its sounds could be plucked from the 90s: a radio station flipping from pop to dance to indie, each track hosting a unique story built from Antony’s reality. Reflecting on the execution now, he has thoughts. “It makes sense enough on the record… it jumps around loads of genres,” he pauses. “It was supposed to be like putting a tape in the car – a ‘Now That’s What I Call Spoken Word’.”

It’s an idea he certainly achieved, and bringing it to life over the past year has meant leaning into all these different facets. From doing Warehouse Project to poetry readings to more dance-oriented shows supporting Romy and Confidence Man, “It’s so funny how many different versions of this thing it can be. You feel sorry for people who do want to hear ‘Yoga Teacher’, or they want to hear… we’ve never played ‘Crumb’. Actually, it’s the only one we’ve never played.”

There’s a deluxe version, too, featuring tracks that were even too wide of the mark for the initial mixtape-style run; the expanded edition finally gives them their deserved airing. He reveals he’s “trying to write a Blur song. It’s proper indie, with a guitar riff, and me proper belting the chorus. And then the other one is a UK garage thing. But it’s just so funny how many different directions I was trying to explore.”

But one area in particular he’s had to explore is his relationship with, erm, himself. He recalls previously trying to describe the on-stage version of Antony Szmierek as a character, but as things began to snowball, the split merged back into one. “Other than wearing football tops and tracksuits all the time – that’s kind of an affectation – it’s so obviously and earnestly me on stage,” he shrugs, smiling. “There’s nothing to hide behind at all. I think maybe because of that, I started to try and build in excuses and protect myself from it, but you have to become the thing or it will swallow you up.”

It goes back to how much the year and his circumstances have changed. On paper, he’s still the same Antony everyone knows and loves. However, the new way of living means he’s nomadic in the sense of spending a lot of time either alone or in front of 6,000 people. “That’s quite an odd way of living,” he ponders. “You do have to change. But it’s fucking mad.”

This also means the references threaded throughout ‘Service Station’ from his day-to-day life are now history. “I’m not going past the pyramid every day,” he laughs. “It feels very rooted in place and purpose.” But moving forward, the untitled next project still retains his personality. “There’s still some fucking silly song titles on the second album,” he reveals. “There are still jokes, and Ben Shepherd is mentioned on one of the songs. It’s not as self-aggrandising and serious as it sounds,” he chuckles. “Probably? But I do take it very seriously – I think you can take things seriously without being a serious person.”

Similarly, his understanding of his craft and what he wants to offer is now deeply rooted. “Hopefully people can see that there’s a lot of care that’s gone into it, and I take the words really seriously,” he says, “but that it’s okay to unleash and be silly.”

“If I’m in love, I’m in love, I’ll tell everybody. If I’m sad, I’m sad, I’ll tell everybody”

The music Antony creates is designed to transport you to a familiar place, allowing you to process your own hefty load. For the self-proclaimed “overbearingly honest” Antony, his work taking on the form it has makes total sense. As he explains, “If I’m in love, I’m in love, I’ll tell everybody. If I’m sad, I’m sad, I’ll tell everybody. That is what I’m always like. It’s so exposing as a person to communicate with people in the pub or around because I just spout everything that’s in my brain.”

It’s a glorious way to live, according to Antony. Being such an openly emotional person – as much in his music as in the real world – means he’s opened himself up to a host of rewarding moments. “You can have better relationships with people. You don’t have to talk about bullshit, small-talk sort of stuff,” he reckons. “I think that is a gift, and that’s the thing that I want people to take away.”

As is the Antony Szmierek way, he wholeheartedly embraces this idea. It’s what’s given him the opportunity of a lifetime – and a project that involves twelve different ones. Following that passionate thread results in a yellow brick road. “You’re here for, like, what, fucking 70 years if you’re lucky,” he begins his parting words. “It’s the whole nature-chance thing, isn’t it? ‘Shy bairns get nowt’ sort of scenario. Just fucking do and love and feel and go out there, and you will regret nothing when you’re 60 years old. There is no point in going, ‘Oh, that was embarrassing’. Embarrass yourself! Get out there! Do these things, live, fucking do the things you want to do.”

Before you know it, one year feels like ten, and it’s too late. So, perhaps do as Antony did – now gleefully prepping the next chapter: “Quit your fucking job, man. The advice I want to give people every day: just quit your job. That’s the pull quote. ‘Quit your job’.” ■

Taken from the December 2025 / January 2026 issue of Dork. Antony Szmierek’s ‘Service Station At The End Of The Universe’ is Number 8 is Dork’s Best Albums of 2025.

He’ll perform on Dork’s Round the Houses tour in 2026. Blackpool and Birkenhead are sold out, with limited tickets available in Stoke – pick up your tickets here.