Joy Crookes has always written like someone who sees the world in widescreen — soul, jazz, R&B, politics, identity, the messiness of love, all folded into songs that feel lived‑in and unmistakably hers. With ‘Painkiller’, her new single featuring Florida rap innovator Denzel Curry, she sharpens that instinct again, delivering a track that feels both intimate and cinematic, bruised and bold, nostalgic yet unmistakably forward‑facing.
It’s the latest chapter in a run of releases that have quietly — and now loudly — signalled Joy’s next evolution. After the global resurgence of Feet Don’t Fail Me Now and its recent Ravyn Lenae remix, she’s been dropping music that feels like a breadcrumb trail toward something bigger. ‘Painkiller’ is the moment that trail catches fire.
‘Painkiller’ began as a voice note — the kind of raw, private sketch that artists often keep tucked away until the right moment arrives. Written years ago in the wake of a destructive relationship, the track is Joy at her most conversational and cutting. She doesn’t romanticise the chaos; she dissects it with humour, hindsight and a kind of emotional precision that has become her signature.
“I wrote Painkiller years ago after the end of a destructive relationship. It’s a conversational tune where I go through the motions of why I dated such a gobshite. Alas, at least I got a nice tune out of it.”
Produced by Dweller and Crookes herself, the song leans into 90s hip‑hop textures — sweeping strings, crisp drums, and a rhythmic swagger that gives Joy’s vocal room to dance between softness and steel. It’s a track that feels both tough and tender, the kind of emotional duality she excels at.
Bringing Denzel Curry into the fold is a masterstroke. His verse doesn’t just complement Joy’s world — it disrupts it in the best possible way. Curry’s trademark intensity and lyrical sharpness add a new dimension, pushing the track into a space where vulnerability and bravado collide.
It’s a collaboration that feels earned rather than engineered. Both artists share a knack for bending genre lines and refusing to sit still creatively, and ‘Painkiller’ captures that meeting point with real electricity.
The accompanying video, directed by Ethan and Tom, was shot over two days in Chicago while Joy was touring the US with Lewis Capaldi. It’s a film that feels rooted in real life — street‑cast faces, lived‑in locations, and an on‑screen chemistry that doesn’t feel manufactured.
The choice to cast Joy’s love interest from the street is telling. It mirrors the song’s emotional honesty: no gloss, no artifice, just two people navigating the complicated terrain of connection and consequence.
If Joy Crookes’ last few years have been defined by ascent, 2025 and 2026 have been about expansion. Her second album Juniper — fearless, lush, and rich with collaborations from Vince Staples and Kano — cemented her as one of the UK’s most important contemporary voices. A landmark Glastonbury Other Stage performance, viral moments across social platforms, and a packed summer of global festivals have only amplified that truth.
Cross The Tracks, Bergenfest, Les Eurockéennes, Down The Rabbit Hole, Rock Werchter, We Out Here, Boardmasters, Montreux Jazz Festival — Joy hasn’t just been present; she’s been a highlight.
And then there’s the Bonobo collaboration, Always On Your Side, which quietly reinforced her versatility and her ability to slot into any sonic universe without losing herself.
What makes ‘Painkiller’ exciting isn’t just the song itself — though it’s one of Joy’s strongest in years — but what it represents. It feels like the opening scene of a new era: confident, emotionally fearless, musically expansive, and unafraid to revisit old wounds with new wisdom.
Joy Crookes has always been compelling. Now she’s becoming undeniable.
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