This is an album about heartbreak, about painful breakups and their immense expanses, which can either create works that are excessively self-indulgent and indebted to that pain, or sensitive, subtle, and constructive works. Lordy is one of the latter.
Houndmouth offers us 35 minutes in which, in that Americana shed where some keep their most horrible thoughts, they release them: naturally, with that peculiar humor and with flashes, much like what we all do to cope with whatever comes our way.
As in their magnificent previous album, Good For You (2021), the vampires are still there, but they no longer bite. They remain immortal to discouragement, but not to heartbreak.
It’s impossible not to be captivated by the melodies and small stories that break silences, appealing to nostalgias that don’t kick and electric boutades (I can’t get the “couldn’t kill it so I set it on fire, set it on fire” out of my head) and calls for help (“hang on ’til the help comes back”)
This is an album that foreshadows the end of summer. We know everything begins in September, and we hope that, with shorter days, the pain will subside and small prayers will find a little meaning.