(Sub Pop, out Fri 13 Jul 2018)
It’s been four years since their second album Passerby, which Wall Street Journal ranked in its ‘Top 15 Albums of 2014’. Along with other high plaudits, notably from The National’s Matt Berninger, who said “I’ve played Passerby on repeat, it was the only album I wanted to listen to.” Now in 2018, time has passed, the dust has settled on the Australian two-piece and it has left our ears a little less cluttered from hype.
The album opens with the airy and delicate Spring. There is a very minimal 60s vibe: it flows patiently with rough-recorded drums, piano organ sounds and Crosby, Stills and Nash style layered vocals. There is no spoiling with over-production here, a tone you’ll hear throughout the album. The uncongested instrumentation leaves a lot of space, giving you the opportunity to hear the delicate touches. The stand-out tracks on the album are the title track Sculptor and Controversy. The latter is almost a think piece article, spoken over Cohen-inspired guitar picking. “What was so terrifying about these suburbs was that they accepted their mediocrity.” Singer Zoë Randell speaks of slum-like suburban conditions in a melodic phraseology, which at times has the vocals racing to the finish line. Phrases are not wilted down to suit the authority of time signatures, you can assume it is a text close to the heart of Randell. The title track Sculptor is the last track on the album and has Luluc at their best. The song leads you from the cynical verse to the uplifting outro, with perfect delicate harmonies to finish: “The most beautiful serene sculpture my hands could make, could trace, could break.”
When speaking of Luluc it’s difficult to not use the adjective understated. Simple arrangements are the core of every track, allowing for the wistful flow state of Randell’s lyrics to sit nicely on top, at least for the majority of the time. There are sections of the record where Randall’s voice can drone-on unpleasantly, leading to a slightly gloomy listening experience, particularly when the lyrics get dark and the melody gets repetitive. But more often than not Luluc hit the nail on the head. Just don’t expect to be blown away by the musicality or any innovative sounds. Be prepared to be gently whisked away into a melancholy state of high-grade folk, bolstered by nuanced production.