Laufey – Credit: Emma Summerton*
The emergence of Laufey, the Icelandic-Chinese singer-songwriter who has become one Gen Z’s chief flag-waver for throwback pop, is largely attributable to her abundant talent. She has a sculptural alto that easily curves into her heart-on-sleeve lyrics, a knack for marrying 21st-century problems with fishhook melodies that recall standards from previous centuries, and a keen sense for framing those vocal lines in arrangements that highlight the tensions lurking underneath.
She’s also a product of her time, when critical masses in pop can develop away from the expected places. TikTok has the lipsync-showcase app Musical.ly in its DNA, and cuts from old Broadway hits, honky-tonk jukeboxes, and avant-garde composers can bubble into its trending-music lists. Pop styles that are adjacent to classical and jazz have also had their moments; Encanto track “We Don’t Talk About Bruno” became the second Disney-musical-borne song to hit Number One in 2022, while the likes of Frozen and Hamilton have become part of the contemporary pop firmament in ways other chart-toppers of recent vintage haven’t. And even though music education’s existence has felt perilous in the wake of arts-hostile budget cutting around the U.S., new generations still want to study it, whether they’re learning violin or Ableton.
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On her third album, Laufey dives into the idea of falling in love, coming to grips with the ways that early-days fun can contort itself into, as she sings on the anxious closing track, “cold, bloody, bitter sabotage.” It opens on a hopeful note: A choir trills “ding, dong” at the outset of “Clockwork,” a close-up view at how first-date jitters can settle into full-on romance. Laufey’s full-bodied alto handles the song’s brief beautifully, her voice darting nervously at first then blossoming into a full-bore croon as she becomes more assured. But it’s not all sunshine and rainbows: “Snow White” stares into the abyss of insecurities about “all the ways/I failed myself, I failed the world all the same,” strings swelling into the mix as her frustration with herself grows; “Carousel” is part music-box fantasia, part apology to someone who viewed Laufey’s life from a too-adjacent angle.
As A Matter of Time continues, the slights and irritations pile up. “Forget-Me-Not” — which includes some lyrics in Icelandic — opens gently, Laufey sounding exhausted as she counts off her regrets, then expands as Laufey’s frustrations mount enough for her to begin singing in Icelandic. The quick-stepping “A Cautionary Tale” feels like a race against a cosmic clock, Laufey’s impassioned vocal adding urgency to the idea of a relationship having an inevitable time limit. “Mr. Eclectic” uses piano twinkles and unexpected naturals to underscore the irritation with a ”grandiose thinker” who’s “just a stoner patronizing” Laufey, unfolding into a sweet bossa nova as Laufey asserts herself on the chorus. (Laufey’s sighed “Oh, what a poser,” backed by increasingly menacing string tremolos, seems made for TikToks a la the chorus of Lorde’s “Man of the Year.”)
The closing track “Sabotage” begins in stripped-down fashion then ends in upheaval, strings trembling and drums rumbling, a choir moaning “ah” in harmony as strings crash and a trumpet bays. It ends abruptly, and if the album loops (which in the streaming era it very well might), the listener hears those opening “ding-dong”s again, implying a perpetual cycle of limerence, love, and loss — a tale as old as time, no matter what style of song might be attached.
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‘ The preceding article may include information circulated by third parties ’
‘ Some details of this article were extracted from the following source www.yahoo.com ’
