Luluc's latest album, Sweet Thief, is a captivating journey through a world where music is compressed into brief, yet impactful moments. The album's concise nature is a refreshing change, offering a unique listening experience that challenges our expectations of song length. In this review, I'll delve into the album's themes, musical style, and the personal impact it had on me.
A World of Compressed Music
One of the most intriguing aspects of Sweet Thief is its exploration of a hypothetical world where everything is half its size. This concept is reflected in the album's song structure, with each track being a concise, yet complete musical experience. The average song length is a couple of minutes, which is a stark contrast to the typical three to five-minute songs we're accustomed to. This brevity is not just a stylistic choice, but a reflection of the album's creators' desire to pack a lot of emotion and experience into a short time frame.
Minimalism and Detail
Zoë Randell and Steve Hassett, the duo behind Luluc, are known for their minimalist approach to music. On Sweet Thief, they take this to a new level, creating intricate and detailed songs that feel fully realized despite their short length. The opener, 'Honeyeater', is a prime example of this, with its archaic inversion and Ren Faire imagery. Hassett's acoustic guitar figure is stark and dusky, reminiscent of early Leonard Cohen, and the song unfolds into a deeper geometry, showcasing the duo's ability to create depth in minimal arrangements.
A Twee Rainbow
Luluc's music is part of a twee rainbow that touches down in many places, from England in the '60s to California in the '70s and Glasgow around Y2K. Randell's singing style has been compared to Nico's deadpan murmur, but I hear more of Karen Carpenter's dreamy virtuosity and the wafting Georgia side of Yo La Tengo. These references highlight the album's ability to blend different musical styles and create a cohesive whole. The female singer's calm, gorgeous harmonies flow together and apart as the attentively arranged music moves with them like a skating partner.
A Busy Time, A Necessary Brevity
Sweet Thief was created partly before and partly after Luluc left Brooklyn to return to their hometown, Melbourne, for a year. During this time, their friend J Mascis added percussion here and there, channeling the ramshackle precision of Dirty Three's Jim White. The album's newfound brevity might be a matter of necessity during a busy time, or an act of confident self-editing, or even a statement about modern attention spans. Regardless, it's effective, and each song explores a distinct arrangement style for Randell's carefully wrought verses.
A Satisfying Breadth of Experience
The lyrics on Sweet Thief occasionally take on a didactic quality, but they are balanced by gushers of sunshine and a power clash of the overdone and the understated. In this crazy old content-drowned world, I respect artists who respect my time, and Sweet Thief packs a satisfying breadth of experience and emotional heft in a time-dilating 26 minutes. The album's ability to convey a lot in a short time is a testament to the duo's skill and the power of minimalism.
In conclusion, Sweet Thief is a captivating and thought-provoking album that challenges our expectations of song length and musical style. It's a testament to the power of brevity and the ability to convey a lot in a short time. Personally, I think it's a must-listen for anyone who appreciates thoughtful and engaging music. From my perspective, Luluc has created a masterpiece that is both accessible and challenging, and it's a pleasure to hear their dream-folk transmissions from this speculative demi-world.
