Crawdaddy! The Magazine of Rock

The Love Language
The Love Language
(Bladen County, 2009)

From the scuzzy, distortion-heavy rock of Wavves, Times New Viking, Vivian Girls, and countless others, lo-fi has experienced resurgence over the past few years, even spawning weirdo, critic-coined subgenres like “glo-fi,” whatever that is. The Love Language, however, evade the trends and prove that, as a mode of production, it need not necessarily be noisy to be successful or endearing. Sure, the vocals are fuzzy and the arrangements are at times cluttered, but think of those aspects as a hazy afterglow of an otherwise shiny sunset.

From the melancholy twang of “Stars” to the lush and layered pop harmonies of “Sparxxx”, this is the ever-shifting yet always catchy music of a newfound bedroom, or rather, storage space auteur, as this particular case may be. Written, recorded, and produced by a lone North Carolinian multi-instrumentalist on a four-track, Stuart McLamb has proven that the four-track can also excel in the folk-pop genre, as he crafts one of the warmest listens of the past year. This is music with a scope that far exceeds the space it was recorded in. While the Love Language is now a fully developed and touring seven-piece, it’s especially impressive that their debut album is the work of a single individual.

At times, it’s a joyride of indie pop so lush that it’s bursting at the seams, while at others it’s a more subdued affair. However, the album’s successful ability to vacillate between upbeat, orchestral party pop and morning-after melancholy is one of its many charms. To illustrate the former, you’ve got the absolute standout “Lalita” with its circus-like trombone resounding with squeals of joy, as well as the dazzlingly jangly “Sparxxx.” On the flipside, there’s the boozy piano plunk of “Night Dogs” and the waltz-like “Manteo.”

But while the tone vastly varies between songs, one quality remains the same throughout—there’s a palpable immediacy that only comes from four-track terrain. It’s a homespun charm that can only occur when so little stands between the singer and the recorded song. The tape hiss and the fuzz are as vital as the instruments they sonically sculpt. They sound defiantly and beautifully untrendy, like lost FM radio classics. With their bits of Brill Building bravado and Motown flair, these songs burst through the static, longing to be heard between the dials.

With only nine tracks and clocking in at less than half an hour, the album certainly leaves  the listener wanting more. But I’m not complaining. It’s way more preferable than doing the opposite and wearing out its welcome. And while they’ve gained greater exposure and the attention of Merge Records, it’s very possible that polished production values may be in the cards for future releases. But no matter what’s to come, we can all be thankful they’ve mastered the language of lo-fi on this one.

Listen: Various Tracks [at myspace.com]

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