Brooklynite Lena Fjortoft returns with her debut, long-gestating, full-length. Having been releasing music under her own name since 2017, it feels like this album is long overdue. Lena has crafted a distinct blend of elements – and perfectly honed her own musical identity in the process – borrowing components from both yesteryear and the modern day and creating something both indebted to the past but also fresh-feeling as a result.
The opening track is the title track, and it sets the tone perfectly. With shimmering electric guitar and a delicate vocal that reminds us of Karen O at her most tender (and a melody that, as it happens, recalls the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s 2009 classic Hysteric) – it feels comfortable, confident, and comforting. Strange Light continues in this way before additional warm, retro tones bleed through – acoustic guitar, keys, and more all come together to make something that feels like it has more in common with The Carpenters than anything from this side of the turn of the millennium. Vocally, Lena’s dulcet tones drip with honey and are velvet smooth, bringing to mind the immortal Emmylou Harris.
Tugboat is up next and is slinkier than the song that preceded it. With an indie vibe as it opens up we’re reminded musically of long-standing Scottish cult heroes Belle And Sebastian – especially Stevie “Reverb ” Jackson’s guitar. As the song develops it feels even more nostalgic as it leans heavily into the sound of yesteryear. Vocally, there are moments’ where we’re reminded of Martha Wainwright or Start-Track’s own Barbora Hora, due to the combination of sweetness, cheek and a slightly jagged edge. Characterful and charming, Lena’s vocals are the star of the show with the beautiful slide guitar coming in at a close second.
Lavender is gently lilting and full of personality from the outset. Beatles-esque piano blends with minimal percussion and sumptuous vocal layering to make a soundscape that is quietly gorgeous – not overblown or bombastic – but just right. Eventually, this minimal arrangement is bolstered by “proper” drums, bass, and the return of the gorgeous slide guitar. We’re reminded of Stevie Nicks and her time spent with Fleetwood Mac by the time the catchy, repetitive chorus comes in.
Violets reminds us of the work of one of our favourite under-appreciated folk duos – Massachusetts’ The Weepies. It’s almost waltz-like in its rhythm and the way it sways at the start. Folky but eminently approachable, by the time we reach the chorus this feels like classic, timeless songwriting – a song that would be as at home on Rumours as it would’ve been on End Of History. Towards the end, it bursts into life with a distorted – and unexpected – guitar solo that – dare we say – sounds a bit like George Harrison – good company indeed.
The spirit of the recently reformed Rilo Kiley comes to the fore next on Heat, not just in the finely balanced vocal performance (which absolutely reminds us of the wonderfully talented Jenny Lewis) but also in the instrumentation. The way the lauded Los Angeles quartet has fused the old with the new over the course of their career is just as well realised here. There’s a lovely, traditional analogue feel and also a thoroughly modern-feeling, sultry, empowered, feminine energy that permeates the song, and, as the shortest song on the album (and also one of the standouts), it shows just how much you can do in a limited timeframe if you have the right components.
Satellite Star recalls the grace and grandeur of Mazzy Star’s 1993 classic Fade Into You. With its combination of glittering acoustic guitar, gossamer vocal, and swaying melody, it feels like it floats and you might too, like a leaf on a breeze. It grows in stature and significance over the course of the song, with Lena’s vocal becoming more pronounced and powerful throughout. The tone of the instrumentation also has a distinctly country feel to it – the way that Bob Dylan’s Nashville Skyline does.
Bell Jar is up next and gets off to a stripped-back but upbeat start. A chugging acoustic guitar pairs with Lena’s trademark vocal, and the song feels poppier than many that have preceded it. The chorus sees her go falsetto and channel the work of Kate Bush – her high-pitched voice piercing the clouds and musical goodness raining down on us. Towards the middle of the song, the music takes a decidedly Brain Jonestown Massacre turn, but only momentarily. It’s a welcome stylistic surprise and is another good example of Lean’s compositional prowess.
Up next is the fantastically named Alien In A Cardigan, which opens with a reserved acoustic guitar and a similarly muted vocal. Smooth and sensuous, the soft, monochromatic start lulls you into a false sense of security and the song soon explodes into full folk-pop technicolour. “I’m not scared of you,” Lena croons as we imagine what might make her run and hide – at the moment, it feels like not a lot would. Bolstered by the rest of the band, Alien In A Cardigan feels as assured as the songwriting has thus far. Channeling the sunshine of The Beach Boys and blending it with more modern acts like The Thrills or Hal – this is splendid stuff, albeit not quite in keeping with the rest of the LP. It concludes with an out-of-this-world soundscape, which we imagine is how a spaceship might sound leaving here, for home. How apropos.
Parties concludes the album and feels like a return to what brought Lena to the dance in the first place – after the brief dalliance of the previous song. Delicate and perfectly poised, it’s emblematic of her sound. Syrupy and delicious, the instruments intertwine and seem to beat as one with Lena’s omnipresent vocal acting as ringleader in this wondrous, enthralling circus of musical style and panache.
A wonderful vision expertly realised, Strange Light is a force to be reckoned with. We suggest you immediately give in to its charm, as resistance is absolutely futile.
Written by Kinda Grizzly
