A new Susanne Lewis album is always a blessing, be it as a vocalist (which she has done, and marvelously so, in both ReR bands Biota and Thinking Plague), a co-conspirator (Hail/Snail*—when will we see a new *Azalia Snail record!?), or a soloist (both eponymously or as Hail or Kissyfur (best band name ever?)). Yet, understanding what makes Lewis’ output so gosh darn compelling (dare I say, magical) is a bit like sifting through an alchemist’s ashes–the fire is where the magic happens.
This most recent album is deceptively simple. The instrumentation and approach could…almost…work as a pure jangle-pop confection akin to the finest works found in the genre’s heyday 90s. Yet, just as one settles into the opening bars of a track like “Sunny/Warmer”, one is soon left reeling as Lewis undermines her pop trappings with a delivery that is…hmmm…what is it?
Lewis isn’t a warm and fuzzy vocalist. There is a flatness to her affect, but not an archness. One feels the authenticity and earnestness of her intent. And that flatness is in itself deceptive, for there is a gauziness and a loftiness to her tone. Her vocals are at once detached and uncomfortably intimate, which is pretty darn unique.
But let’s get one thing straight. Unfortunately, this is not a new Susanne Lewis record. Well, I mean, it kind of is, cuz it is the first time her eponymous solo album has made it onto vinyl (which sounds incredible, by the way). Oddly, there is a missing track, “Pill Popping Nation”. Not sure why that bad boy didn’t make the cut. Let’s all go head over to Susanne’s house and ask!
Lewis did release an album in 2023, My Genessee that you should most definitely seek out, but that is another story. This reissue is Lewis at the top of her game, a glorious conflation of chiming arpeggiated guitars, tasteful drums, understated bass, the odd accompanying arrangement, and Lewis’ vocals, sometimes straight, sometimes layered or harmonised with.
It should be noted that Lewis rarely progresses her chords in ways either obvious or prescripted. Her muse takes her on a wild and wildly unpredictable compositional ride that, somehow, manages to feel natural.
It should also be noted that nothing will prepare you for the album’s closing track, “Sunrise”, an epic cut that starts trance-like and ends even more so. Listening to it, I am transported to a field in which I am most certainly dancing naked amidst the violets.
