Sondre Lerche - Please

As with his past releases, Please seems free from the grips of genre, and instead flits this way and that, revealing Lerche’s multi-faceted talents. It begins with its strongest offering, "Bad Law". Its melodies and texture - somehow both scratchy and clean - are reminiscent of an old Phoenix, and it is probably one of Lerche’s most initially captivating songs to date. He sings, “When crimes are passionate/can love be separate?”, which presents a duality that nods towards both the textural differences and more obviously his recent divorce to director Mona Fastvold. It might be slightly discrediting to assign this break-up with so much importance towards Please, but with this in mind it adds an interesting perspective.

The opening and choral melodies of "Lucifer" carry an endearingly youthful delicacy, with lines like "When you're with me I don't understand why on earth we would ever speak again" sounding either frightfully clear or somewhat debauched; the beauty is in the ambiguity. Yes, as fun as the record is, there is this undercurrent of boozy-breath, melancholy throughout; but he makes it work. It's like he woke up hungover at his best friend's wedding, but after a cold shower and a motivational boost from the groom, spruces up and makes the night beautiful, as with "Lucky Guy": "I am such a lucky guy to have met you […] my voice breaks so I'll sing it/carve out one final tune tonight".

Perhaps this imagery is a little melodramatic, but there is undoubtedly a feeling of Lerche stepping up and and getting in touch with the world. In “At Times We Live Alone”, Lerche’s voice sounds as solitary as the title’s lyrics suggest, but it’s musical arrangement is messy and playful, and his honesty is endearing. And it’s not all doom and gloom:“Legends” is almost jovial, and “After the Exorcism” has a kooky blend of upbeat drums and chaotic noise.

Okay, perhaps Please is a break-up album; as its title suggests, Lerche is reaching out. But its not with the usual overly-saccharine sop that is so prevalent in albums of this nature. Instead, Lerche presents ten songs with timbral diversity, infusing scratchy indie-rock with a ballroom-blues glaze. It’s not all as instantly catchy as its opening track, but you can bet it’s a grower, post-break-up or not.