Luluc's latest album, Sweet Thief, is a captivating journey into the realm of dream-folk, where every note is carefully crafted to transport listeners to a different dimension. The album's brevity is remarkable, with each song clocking in at just a few minutes, yet each one is a masterpiece of detail and emotion. This is a far cry from the epic lengths of songs in the past, which were often dictated by the limitations of early recording technology. Now, Luluc seems to be embracing a new era of concise storytelling, where every second counts.
Zoë Randell and Steve Hassett, the duo behind Luluc, have always been known for their minimalist approach, but Sweet Thief takes this to a whole new level. The album feels like a collection of intricate ship-in-a-bottle moments, each one a delicate and fully realized composition. The opener, 'Honeyeater', is a prime example of this, with its archaic inversion and Ren Faire imagery, coupled with Hassett's haunting acoustic guitar figure that echoes the early works of Leonard Cohen. It's a stark and dusky sound, oozing with low strings and a big oily bass, setting the tone for the album's unique style.
Luluc's music is part of a twee rainbow that spans across different eras and locations, from the '60s England of Nick Drake to the '70s California of Nico, and the '90s Glasgow of Camera Obscura. Randell's singing style, often compared to Nico's deadpan murmur, also draws parallels to Karen Carpenter's dreamy virtuosity and the wafting Georgia sound of Yo La Tengo. This blend of influences creates a unique and captivating sound, where the female singer's harmonies flow and intertwine with the attentively arranged music, much like a skating partner.
Sweet Thief was created during a transitional period for Luluc, as they moved from Brooklyn back to their hometown, Melbourne. This shift in location seems to have inspired a newfound brevity in their music, which could be a result of necessity, confident self-editing, or even a statement about modern attention spans. Each song on the album explores a distinct arrangement style, from the somnolent doo-wop of 'Rewarding Melody' to the soul ballad 'Dopamine Slot Machine', which is abstracted into quiet slabs of organ with liquid computery trills. The palm-muted funk in 'Lullaby' showcases their knack for working vivid contrasts into little cracks.
However, the lyrics on Sweet Thief have occasionally been criticized for their didactic quality. The song 'Wanna Get Free' is a prime example, with its preach-like themes of pharmaceutical prophets. Yet, when taken in the context of the album's overall twee spirit, these lyrics can be seen as a playful clash of the overdone and the understated. Luluc's music is better when it's concise, and in a world drowning in content, Sweet Thief packs a satisfying breadth of experience and emotional heft in just 26 minutes.
In my opinion, Luluc has achieved something truly special with Sweet Thief. It's an album that respects the listener's time, offering a satisfying and time-dilating experience. The brevity of the songs is not a compromise, but rather a statement of intent, a celebration of the power of the understated. So, if you're looking for an album that packs a punch in a short space of time, Sweet Thief is a must-listen. It's a testament to the fact that sometimes less is indeed more.
