The Lucksmiths
Warmer Corners

THE REVIEW

Shall we be completely honest? The Lucksmiths will not tear your heart out, they won't leave you in a pool of tears as you repeat to yourself that you're worthless, they won't give you sleepless nights, nor will they soothe any of your bad moods, nothing of the sort. The realm in which their notes move is that of a storm that has already passed, of which only a faded memory remains.
They place themselves at a point where everything is now so clear that there's nothing left to do but evoke past moments, small yet important, now transfigured into experience that has made us stronger and perhaps less naive, less... pure.

Epigones of Belle & Sebastian, with a pinch of Smiths, they are a trio from Australia that essentially makes a very simple and enjoyable indie-pop-folk. In a word, I would describe the record as "discreet," in the purest sense of the term (as my dictionary states: "Moderate, behaving with a sense of opportunity and discretion").
Let's be clear, it is by no means a masterpiece, because they remain too derivative, but the listening is satisfying. The lyrics are minimalist and talk about just-ended or tentative loves, "epiphanies," and revelations, never lapsing into intellectualism.

The dances open with "A Hiccup In Your Happiness", which in its 2 minutes and a bit immediately sets things straight: it starts very delicately and is enriched after a while with horns and violins to highlight the choruses that go uptempo.
Rough guitar intro for "The Music Next Door", which in the bridge strongly recalls the vocal harmonies of Belle & Sebastian (beautiful closing chorus based on "pa-pa pa-pa-pà" overlaid with horns). It is followed by the acoustic but not too much ballad "Great Lengths", with dreamy electric guitar notes.
The organ and the upbeat drums of "Now I'm Even Further Away" are beautiful, one of the most captivating tracks on the record. The slow "If You Lived Here, You'd Be Home Now" drips with cosmic melancholy, which strongly recalls The Smiths and Morrissey at their best: arm yourself with a damsel to dance at sunset, please!
A must-mention for "I Don't Want To Walk Around No More", so nocturnal and delicate: you won't resist the whistled melody halfway through the piece. The album closes with the folk of "Fiction", which reminds me a lot of Leonard Cohen, while the lyrics are à la Smiths, telling the story of a unique encounter at a barbecue.

Listening to this album makes one understand that there is also a melancholy that does not kill (pret-à-porter melancholy?): stay away from it if you're in the mood to smash everything or feel miserable. In any case, give it a chance; it might turn out to be a truly pleasant surprise...