by David Wilikofsky
Real Lies’ debut album, Real Life, sounds as distinctive and utterly unique today as it did when it was released in 2015. It’s as if the group took the last few decades of British popular music and threw it in a blender; Britpop guitar melodies, Madchester sleaze, pulsing electronica and other sounds of the past were mixed and matched into something completely new. It seemed like they was poised to break through in a major way on the strength of that album, but then…silence. The group had a life changing deal pulled out from under them; band members left to pursue a different life path. One-off singles began trickling out a few years ago, and seven years after their debut they’ve finally come back with their sophomore album. It’s a triumphant return, an album that sees the band refining their sound and vision without losing any of their power.
Lad Ash is a more focused effort than its predecessor, shedding its eclecticism and leaning more heavily on the electronic, dance heavy facet of their sound. Frontman Kev Kharas’ spoken monologues glide over glistening, nocturnal production courtesy of Patrick King, weaving tales of love and loss. It’s music that brings to mind Mike Skinner’s early Streets albums and David Balfe’s more recent magnum opus as For Those I Love; aside from the topical similarities between them, each of these records combines word and sound into something far greater than the sum of their parts. Their songs are cinematic and enveloping, more aural memory than anything else.
Some might call Lad Ash a left turn, and on the surface I might agree; part of what made Real Lies so fascinating on Real Life was their collagist approach to music. Yet listening to the albums side by side, there’s an obvious kinship despite the stark sonic differences. At their core, Real Lies are storytellers. Their instrumentals have always existed in service of their narratives, used as as a way to animate and enhance them. Lad Ash‘s throbbing, melancholic sonic palette is a pitch perfect backdrop for the album’s half forgotten memories of late nights and wasted youth. “Dream On”, a story of finding new love, barrels forward with breathless euphoria; the cavernous, elegiac synths of opener “Ethos” echo Kharas’ late night ruminations. Each note feels perfectly choreographed, each climax and nadir working in tandem with the emotional ebb and flow of the lyrics.
I have no doubt it’s daunting to release an album after everything that has happened to the group over the past seven years, but Real Lies have nothing to fear. Lad Ash is a triumph from start to finish, and hopefully the break through moment they’ve deserved since the beginning.