It’s hard to describe the feeling of a late night or early morning, especially during the summer months. On the East Coast, there’s sort of this tradition of the seasonal pilgrimage from the city — a retreat into the wilderness from the sensory assault of all things urban, usually resulting in some form of catharsis. Amen Dunes‘ Love is the sonic recreation of that particular feeling, meticulously crafted to evoke a spiritual awakening.
Written and recorded over a year and a half in Montreal, Love feels like the first fully fleshed-out LP from New York’s Damon McMahon — a product of multiple sessions with friends and frequent collaborators. The result is an expanded soundscape that retains the hypnotic guitar of his early work while incorporating some flexible drumming and vocal tricks. It is a strangely absorbent listening experience that heightens the senses and cuts sharp like the distinct scent of rain that arrives before any actual precipitation.
A curious song like “Sixteen” (one of the album’s few guitar-less tracks) features an isolated, monotonous piano stab made utterly intoxicating by McMahon’s swirling vocals. While it’s difficult to distinguish exactly what he’s saying, one phrase echos clear across the mix:Â “Today, my love is gone.” The pained sentiment marks but one of the project’s many examinations of the all-encompassing emotion. “It takes a lot babe, I know myself / After this time, I’ve gone to someone else / I feel uncertain,” he sings on the contemplative “I Know Myself,” creating a narrative arc through his loose lyrical themes.
The early single “Lonely Richard” is the album’s best and most instrumentally rich track. The country twang stretches and shimmers over militant drums — a salute to the rising sun and wet grass that comes with it. “Have yourself a good time,” McMahon declares over sliding guitars before the track concludes with a seemingly contented sigh. Four songs later, “Rocket Flare” propels Love‘s sonic ascent, kicking off with some gleaming electric finger picking that perfectly compliments the hazed vocals.
Ending with the surprisingly exotic eight-and-a-half-minute title track, Love truly feels like a brief escape from the multitude of distractions that dilute us day-to-day. “It’s time you call on me / I swear I’ll figure it out,” he sings promisingly. The LP’s cover boasts a photo of a topless woman looking back at the moon over a field of fog in an inspiring moment that captures the raw essence of the project. With endless buzzfeed lists and internet think pieces constantly telling us what and how to feel, maybe stripping down to the essentials is just what we need. Touting Love as his thesis, McMahon offers a convincing argument.
Review by Shea Garner. Skinny dip with him on Twitter @sheaDUCK.
