Dubliner Meryl Streek pulls no punches on his compelling new record, Songs For The Deceased, offering a bleak, unfiltered look at his hometown. A seasoned rock drummer with over 15 years’ experience playing stages worldwide, Streek left Ireland during the recession, moving to Vancouver. Upon his return, the grim state of the Fair City, along with his disdain for the music industry, inspired him to reinvent himself artistically.

It’s almost like a modern iteration of Joyce’s famous collection of short stories, only the stream of consciousness is swapped for pounding drums and synthesisers. Oh, and everyone’s a prick.

“The funny thing is I’m quite a positive person,” Streek reflects. “There’s a lot of things I love about Dublin, but it’s getting outweighed by the negative. People are stressed and angry. I didn’t mean to, but I ended up making an anthology of stories that have come out of Dublin.”

The photomontage cover art hints at the album’s themes: a spitting critique of Ireland’s political establishment, from incisive reflections on the housing crisis to diatribes on former Taoiseach Bertie Ahern.

Songs For The Deceased

“The housing crisis is never going to be an issue that I won’t speak about,” Streek affirms. “There’s 180,000 derelict properties in this country. I didn’t really expect it to be gradually getting worse every year when I came back.

“I’m sick of listening to the lies being thrown around by these political parties – it’s like a fucking episode of Fawlty Towers. The bike sheds and all that crap, this is a fucking Netflix documentary in the making. It’s just comedy gold.”

Streek’s social commentary intersects with his interest in crime and forensics, using the album to address tragedies like the Stardust nightclub fire and the case of Terence Wheelock, a 20-year-old from Summerhill, who died in 2005 under controversial circumstances at Store Street Garda Station.

“It’s been going on for 20 years and the ins and outs of the case are really harrowing,” Streek says. “I’ve met the family, and any little bit of help they can get is still help. They don’t have access to interviews or speaking on BBC on these issues. When I play abroad, people come up to me and they’re really interested to learn more. That’s the aim of the game: to educate people on the dark side of Ireland and not what Tourism Ireland will tell you in a brochure.”

Tracks like ‘One’s Hand’ and ‘The Gambling Death’ tackle another pressing issue – Ireland’s complicated and often under-documented relationship with addiction.

“It’s something we see every day, but I don’t think we acknowledge it,” Streek observes. “The barflies going to the pub and Paddy Power with the little money they have, and hoping that it works out for them, and when it doesn’t, they’re fucked. Almost every bus stop has a fucking ad for Diageo Ireland. I personally hate it, mainly because of the shit times it’s given families across the country.

“I had a few friends in school that were some of the smartest blokes in the class, and now they’re outside betting shops with huge bellies after just having gone for eight pints, and that’s their daily routine. It’s mad when you think about it.”

Streek himself has been sober for four-and-a-half years, a choice that often contrasts sharply with the alcohol-fuelled culture of the music industry.

“I don’t miss being wrecked and being thrown two trays of cans. I actually find it hard to get a can of Coke at some of these venues. They’ll give you 24 beers and a bottle of whiskey, but they can’t manage a fucking Coke.”

Known for his striking blue contacts, he leans into the intimidating aesthetic during his intense live performances.

“My grandad raised me on horror movies, so I just love anything intimidating and scary,” he explains. “I’ve got a constant strobe going. I wear the contacts and I’ll jump into the crowd – and if you don’t share my political views and make it known, I’ll take you down.”

• Songs For The Deceased is out now. Meryl Streek plays Whelan’s, Dublin (November 29) and Ulster Sports Club, Belfast (30)