Lamb
Backspace Unwind

It's a matter of perspective.

Some say that one of the big problems of this decade (now well advanced) is the lack of a recognizable style/mood that characterizes it.

Others find this feature to be a plus.

One thing is certain, and that is that these "10s" years, in this sense, are the natural continuation of the previous "0s".

It would be nice to start any review with a clear idea of what one should write (and in fact, I usually do) but perhaps the reason I find it hard to be distant and objective with the Lamb is that they are one of those artistic expressions where that's just impossible for me, or maybe because "Backspace Unwind" is one of those albums (and quite a few come to mind just from this year: from Aphex Twin's to Neneh Cherry's) that reaches us not with changing tides but simply past its prime.

For goodness' sake, only three years separate it from the remarkable previous album "5", but in this hurried era where days turn into weeks, and so on, it's easy to say that those who pause are not lost but merely arrived until some true-fake-prophet of dub (or whatever appeals to you) comes along, who until July might have been busy with high school finals, to destabilize (or try unsuccessfully to do so) the certainties.

The fact is, I want a Lamb album from the Lamb: nothing more, nothing less. A bit like returning to a place you particularly loved and hoping to find it unchanged.

In a certain sense, this discourse is dangerous because "Backspace Unwind" continues the logical thread started with "5", seeking a balance and a modern shift between what was the 90s' electronics around Bristol and its contemporary continental counterpart (especially in the geographic area between Paris and Amsterdam) with the connecting thread of Lou's Folk voice and Andy's Free Jazz attitude. So those seeking pure and clear reminiscences of the first four will have to settle for small sensations, especially in the arrangement phase, and for the continuous surprise that are Lou’s vocal acrobatics.

From the riff of "In Binary", it becomes clear: what once made sense now, in these times of indeterminacy, can only take shape if forgotten. A curious thing for an act that in the '90s seemed destined (to the ears of the distracted) merely to orbit.

A constant, however, is the obsessive search for the right melody (a characteristic already present from their first two, the most challenging to listen to among their albums): an essential component of their sound never digested by the purists of certain electronic noise but which is an inevitable trademark, evident already from the single "We Fall in Love".

An album, as usual, whispered and not shouted, where the fear of the beats seems to have vanished in favor of a mood that is only melancholic in its autumnal aura, balanced with the desire for a new summer whose arrival already resonates in the distance: a commercial attitude they never showed embarrassment about even in tougher years than these and therefore illogical to deny.

From my point of view (as a fan, I repeat: I'm not hiding behind a finger here) an album without weak points.

For everything else, there is the enchanting "What Makes Us Humans" or the classical "Doves & Ravens".