Re-evaluating a record only 18 months after its release might seem like a dubious idea, but with La Roux, Ladyhawke & Little Boots all hitting the heights of the chart with considerable success, column inches, and more than a little hype, it already feels like the time is right to say that Lykke Li’s debut Youth Novels is the most underappreciated pop album in recent memory in the UK.
I can already hear the dissent; Lykke Li enjoyed a warm critical reception, found acceptance in the indie hipster scene and established a cult following. But while ‘Little Bit’ managed to hit #20, ‘I’m Good, I’m Gone’ couldn’t even break the top 40 and ‘Breaking it Up’ had even less of an impact, dismissed as mere coquettishness without substance.
Just 18 months on, La Roux and Ladyhawke have generated number 1 singles and heavy radio rotation with their take on synth-pop and 80s electro throwback, while Little Boots has enjoyed a nigh-on hysterical full label backing despite lacking the craft and invention in evidence on Youth Novels; as irrelevant as the charts are in modern music, this is still a travesty.
Don’t misconstrue this as a La Roux put down; ‘Bulletproof’ is an immensely memorable tune, with a chorus that sinks somewhere deep into your psyche (God knows it will be stuck in my head for an unnecessarily long time), but her retro 80s aesthetic means that it is as comfortable on Radio 2’s playlist as it is anywhere else. Ladyhawke’s hit ‘Paris is Burning’ riffed on obvious similarities with Gary Numan, while her debut seemed to swing between 80s kitsch and similarly retrogressive, shiny MOR. Little Boots’s Kylie aspirations are evident on ’Stuck on Repeat’, which falls somewhere between Donna Summer and 90s dance, but with anonymous vocals. Hands is just another lacklustre installment of this rather unwelcome 80s revival that values style (and hype) above substance.
Thus, retro electro-pop records, complete with virtual pastiches of artists such as Human League, Soft Cell, Numan et al, have become synonymous with ‘innovative pop’, which is all in all a rather absurd development. The focus in the media and radio on these retrogressive pop artists and their artificially-constructed moment/scene will surely end the same way as the garage rock revival ushered in by The Strokes, and become completely forgettable in the grand scheme of things within a matter of months.
What we really should have been paying attention to all the while was the genuine, (possibly) timeless pop gem that dropped last year, a record which mixed electro with minimalist pop arrangements and hooks that stick; Youth Novels. In contrast to the popular ethos that more is better, or that revivalism is all, Lykke Li and Bjorn Yttling (of Peter, Bjorn & John) found invention in stripping down a pop record to its bare essentials; a minimalist approach to the instrumentation, the majority of verses driven by just bass, percussion, and vocal melody, building to irresistible hooks.
There is still an evident electro-pop influence; the thick fuzzy synth of ‘Complaint Department’, processed vocals on ‘I’m Good, I’m Gone’ (which actually does something with its electro heritage), the handclaps, slightly warped pulsating basslines, tight drums, and repetitive grooves. Instead of merely emulating 80s retro, it cherry picks the best elements and marries them with organic melodies provided by a variety of instruments (guitar, mandolin, saxophone, clarinet) and of course Lykke Li’s individual, sultry and fragile voice, which acts as the album’s anchor, holding together disparate sounds. She comes across as a true chanteuse, highlighting an eclectic taste with intriguing melodies in between the sparse production.
The lyrics meanwhile simultaneously cover the thematic motifs – coming of age, love, break-ups – that have been the lifeblood of pop music since time immemorial. This is style, substance and individuality combined; a perfect pop dream.
The album’s overarching strength is that it works taken as a whole; the principle of beauty in simplicity is adhered to throughout. The joyous irresistible upright bass line of ‘Dance Dance Dance’ is the first sign; combined with a vocal line that convinces you of both criminal shyness and the sexual allure the lyrics allude to, building up with backing vocals in the refrain and saxophone silliness for an irresistibly uplifting ending. Then there is the sing-a-long of ‘Break it Up’ with its effervescent conclusion, the melancholic simplicity and beauty of ‘Time Flies’, while ‘Let if Fall’ delivers further clarity in the sparse percussion, a bass line that sounds like a warped Carly Simon out of context, and seductive repetition of the hook, which similarly sinks into your consciousness . The only contender for an already existing hit, ‘Little Bit’, is a cautious modern love song that pulsates hypnotisingly, with mandolin provided by Bjorn, and an honest take on modern relationships (“for you I keep my legs apart/ and forget about my broken heart”).
These all should have been hits; this is pop at its best, fun, instant, and arresting, informed by what preceded it with added individuality, progression and ingenuity; and the list could continue.
In contrast to the current crop of female artists parading partly updated 80s electro-pop fad as the future of the charts in the UK, Lykke Li offered something else, originality, great memorable pop and the possibility of looking back in 10 years and thinking this may have been worthwhile; this is the record we should have bought.
GE
