Taken a method, the songs on Luster are desolately lonely, beamed out into the bracing Connemara ether or directed in the direction of a “you” that’s nowhere to be seen. “Projections of you/In my head,” she sings huskily on the refrain of “Projections”; on “Stonefly,” she repeats, “With out you…” like a mantra over synth swirls that harken again to “hypnagogic pop.” Sure lyrical motifs resurface repeatedly—the ocean, the sky, the trail. The phrase “time” seems extra ceaselessly than I can rely: On “Spring,” it is available in waves that ebb perpetually away, and on the breathtaking “Backyard,” she swims by time itself, previous darkish caves and out towards hotter waters. Is she swimming ahead in time, or again? A secret third course, she clarifies: “Into.”
And but Luster is the least insular of Somerville’s tasks—maybe excluding final 12 months’s Princ€ss, the debut from the mysterious collective of the identical title, of which Luster’s press notes reveal Somerville to be a contributor. (On reflection, it isn’t onerous to identify her fingerprints on songs like “Typically” and “In My Head.”) The place she recorded All My Individuals for probably the most half alone, right here she collaborates with a handful of principally Irish musicians who match into the combo so subtly you barely register they’re there: the harpist Róisín Berkeley on the starry-eyed “Réalt,” guitar from Connemara native Olan Monk on “Stonefly,” uilleann pipes from Lankum’s Ian Lynch tucked into “Violet,” plus broader contributions from Henry Earnest and Finn Carraher McDonald. Maybe because of this, there’s a holisticism to the hero’s journey on which Somerville embarks—a sense that you simply’re not alone, particularly when you find yourself.
At instances a lyric sheet is required to discern what Somerville is singing: The distinctly Grouper-esque “Halo” obscures a reverie of historical Irish mysticism with thick clouds of reverb. Written out, Luster’s lyrics can really feel just a little unresolved: “I can see/Extra clearly than I may earlier than/I do know now/What’s true/For me,” from “Journey,” is a sentiment so easy it verges on trite. However that’s precisely the enchantment of “Violet,” on which Somerville channels Carla dal Forno’s goth-folk romance, singing within the woolly means your voice sounds once you get up: “Burden of life/Life is love/Love is time/Time is love/So many issues within the air.” What may very well be sophomoric merely registers as true, then dissipates earlier than the thought solidifies. “All the things is…” she sighs, however I can’t make out the remainder, as if she’d traced the ultimate phrase onto a steamy toilet mirror. In any case, what issues is it’s spring, and wild strawberries are rising alongside the trail outdoors her home.
