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The latest Lewsberg LP (which has finally made it into our hands…) has the undeniable chug and dryness that I love about this group, but also feels like a slight departure.
Where 2020’s In This House felt like a study in rock’n’roll minimalism by stripping back to an undeniably close reading of the Velvet Underground (to the point where a not inconsequential amount of people thought we were playing a lost VU album when listening to it in store), this record sounds less like a conceptual art project and more like a group coming into their own.
Sure, there’s still the guitar choogle, Cale-esque Euro talk singing, and Moe-ish mallet-heavy drumming, but there’re also something that seems more organic: a spindly guitar line, a mournful violin melody, lyrics that seem to exist in a one of those dream states that verges on the everyday but are slightly distanced or askew.
-Mitch