Lucius – Wildewoman Lucius – Wildewoman

Lucius - Wildewoman (2013)

Lucius – Wildewoman (2013)

There was a very potent and confusing time in my life when I listened to the Indigo Girls. I’m not exactly proud of that. In fact, I’m a little bit ashamed about how passionately I used to sing along to THE ENTIRETY of Swamp Ophelia while writing letters of bloated desperation to any and every girl that had been even obliquely kind to me in my freshman and sophomore years of high school.

I remember one letter, in particular (whose recipient has – rightly – long escaped me) which I scribbled at my grandparent’s place up in the Poconos, just moments after finishing 1984, wherein I went on and on and on about how the Indigo Girls (and Edie Brickell, goddamn her) offered me insight into who I could trust and love in a world dampened by fascist bootsteps and doublespeak and how wonderfully painful it was to be aware and free despite the overwhelming adversities of being fourteen, fifteen at worst.

I’m sure there was plenty more posy in there but that’s all gotten lost to time and though I know I could easily live out the rest of my days never confessing an affection for Mss. Sailers and Ray (no offense) there’s just something in the wily genre dashing uppercut (folk, gogo, etc.) and feminine power play of Lucius that has me considering what might have got me all lovey-dovey with “Galileo” in the first place.

I think it was a sense of wanting to be an adult. Entertaining a life of eloquent, if dramatic, tastes pitched in a timbre of lovelorn vigor and gilded with red wine intellectualism. That shit seemed so deliciously easy back then but now it reads like the ruddy nonsense of a young man in need of a good fuck.

I suppose that’s why the Indigos and I parted ways. I had sex. More than that, I found (true) love and (truer) heartache, thankless work and cheap beer and the rest of the shame that comes with living life in the big, dumb city and swiftly those Lilith idyllics which informed my little dream of what being a grown up should be just turned all sorts of pathetic and wrong.

And, to be honest, I feel a little cheated.

But today, I’m letting that go. Today I have Lucius whose full-length debut, Wildewoman, is like a Hal Ashby cocktail party dream (or maybe it’s Hartley) that doesn’t hop and skip so much as patiently (casually, expertly, absently almost) wander through the flowers of maturity with a Wyeth wink and post-pop skew that could easily drift on Brooklyn aloofness but instead embraces a rich tenacity for pleasure and a craft whose coy elegance and soft vanity is EXACTLY the sort of thing I should’ve based my future livelihood on way back when I thought bands were a reasonable template for being.

Who am I kidding? I still do.

Wildewoman Tracklist:

01 – Wildewoman
02 – Turn It Around
03 – Go Home
04 – Hey, Doreen
05 – Tempest
06 – Nothing Ordinary
07 – Two Of Us On The Run
08 – Until We Get There
09 – Don’t Just Sit There
10 – Monsters
11 – How Loud Your Heart Gets

Lucius - Wildewoman, reviewed by Charles on 2013-11-05T03:03:00-08:00 rating 4.0 out of 5

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