Avery Laird is a Toronto-based artist who self-proclaims to be “what Elliot Smith would sound like if he watched too much Seventh Seal”. He releases his 9th song Lucky as an ode to bummer-rock. The song opens with a childhood memory: finding a rabbit’s foot on the roadside. The mangled rabbit stays just out of frame. That’s the whole move here. State the horror plainly. Bury the feeling under a word repeated until it curdles. You can hear Pavement in the shrugging, half-mumbled delivery. You can hear Slow Pulp in the quieter unease underneath. The music stays loose in the verses. The chorus turns almost too calm for what it’s admitting.
The rabbit’s foot becomes a slow-motion metaphor. It dries out. It loses whatever luck it held. The narrator seems to lose faith in the same way. They start to suspect good fortune was never meant for them.
In the end, luck isn’t about avoiding bad things anymore. It’s about permission. Permission to be left alone. Permission to let a ghost, or an old version of yourself, finally go.
Lucky is out now on all streaming platforms.
Written by Rohan Kakar
