Love Connection

Love Connection’s debut album is the first missive fired from an emerging pop micro-scene, writes LAWSON FLETCHER.

[Historical image is withheld pending rights review.]It’s been some time now since receiving a copy of Love Connection’s self-titled debut, and it’s only after living with it for a good few weeks, that I feel ready and qualified to reflect on it. Not only is this album a slow-burner in many ways – a complex musical beast to appreciate and articulate – the excitement it has generated and the context in which it was created has demanded further reflection. This is a generous hearted record, bursting with excitement, but it’s equally a lesson in patience.

The album opens with what might turn out to be the most perfectly formed opening track of any album this year. ‘I Know You’re Real’ is a brilliantly succinct analogue rock stomp, one that barely stops to catch its breath the moment that excellent beat rings in. It’s soon followed by layers of flute, synth, multi-tracked vocals and the ineffable auto-harp, everything drawing behind its rushing, slightly spooky atmosphere. The track’s brilliance, however, lies in the band’s ability to still make something so pulsing and full seem so casually delivered. It’s that rare treat when compositional perfection is matched fully by execution.

It wouldn’t be surprising then, in light of those opening moments of pure pop bliss, for the rest of Love Connection to be little more than an extended denouement, and the cautious, almost post-climactic opening to second track ‘Trilogy’ seems to suggest this. Nevertheless, the record’s remainder tries its best to live up to the promise of its opening salvo, simply shifting gears from perfectly self-contained rock brilliance to extended synth-washed, lo-fi pop.

Indeed, the other seven tracks on here work best if you suspend thinking about them as “songs” and instead as one prolonged jam or excursion, in which each part bridges seamlessly with the next. If you go looking for tracks, it’s hard not to feel a bit short-changed – there’s only eight, three of which are short parts of the interspersed ‘Movement’ suite. Treated as a single piece, however, these tracks are quite beautiful in their repeated textural motifs. Organic synths, infectious drum patterns, self-recorded fuzz and guitars ranging from sparse to psychedelic are worked into a satisfying continuity; like coasting along one big rainbow.

“Organic synths, infectious drum patterns, self-recorded fuzz and guitars ranging from sparse to psychedelic are worked into a satisfying continuity; like coasting along one big rainbow.”

In fact – and forgive the highly limited generational reference – I can’t help but be reminded of the final stage of Mario Kart 64 on Nintendo; the infamous, stretching “Rainbow Road”, where everything just blends into this beautiful, technicolour landscape at night. The comparison isn’t meant to be flippant. The giddy, hazy quality of “driving” that course as a kid is just like listening to this album at times; most of the pleasure comes from the flow of everything blending into itself – even if there are some exciting chicanes along the way.

The best moments within this tapestry are those relatively short ones that reek of pop perfection, often when Dean Noble’s drumming – a highlight of the record – finds its perfect equilibrium with Kobi Simpson’s keys and Michael Caterer’s guitar lines, such as on the light-bright opening to ‘Lost City of Gold’. The worst, inevitably, are when these sessions descend into slightly too languid drawls, as on ‘Shapes’ and closer ‘All Over’. These drones sound like a band without a plan, just as far more fruitful ideas are sometimes too quickly cast aside, such as the killer beat and falsetto riding out ‘Movement I’.

The end result is a record that, despite its sense of textural consistency and ability to melt looseness and structure, often remains a bit patchy and haphazard in its execution and ideas. It reveals a band still coming to grips with what it might actually be, but such criticism is worth making because of the amazing promise Love Connection show. The band are still in their infancy, finding their sound and fleshing out their ideas, and in a time when sounds and scenes disappear as fast as music websites turn over content, Love Connection beg us to wait patiently for what’s next – not just from them, but from their peers.

Their music has sprung from a pretty exciting local milieu of other Melbourne bands including the likes of Parking Lot Experiments and labelmates Rat vs. Possum, who make similarly hyper-inclusive pop instilled with elements of electronica, folk, lo-fi and possibly even jungle. Indeed, the snaking synth and drum repetition of ‘Lost City of Gold’, not to mention its bright yet languorous vocals, could easily pass for a Parking Lot Experiments track. However, the clear difference is that Love Connection – only a year into their existence – prefer to keep things a little more loose and casual than their peers.

With this album, Love Connection have properly fired the first official missive from this bona fide micro-scene, but let’s not allow it be the last. Despite their flaws, there is only room to grow for Love Connection, and with an album as warm and effusive as this, the prospect of a second installment is genuinely exciting.

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Love Connection is out now through Sensory Projects