Loaded Honey's shimmering ode to the love story we don't want to hear
"Love Made Trees" is the lush debut from the British duo with lots of heart and even more break
Sometimes the best albums tell an all-too-familiar tale. A story that’s comfortable, cliché, allowing each listener to map their life experiences onto the story. Nameless boy meets nameless girl. An unending love begins — the kind where the very trees lining cobbled streets seem to skip down the lane in unison — only for it all to sour somewhere along the way. Cue Hollywood’s favorite piece of movie magic: the post-breakup montage of despair.
Baked into Loaded Honey’s debut album “Love Made Trees,” an album that shimmers, haunts and delights, is an exploration of love’s fragility. At only 11 tracks and 33 minutes, the duo of Lydia Kitto and producer J Lloyd — the latter being one half of British group Jungle — bring listeners along for a story of two people falling in and out of love. The word “genre” may bend with each volatile emotion, but the production style anchors each track into a cohesive project.
Listeners’ first taste of Loaded Honey is the syrupy opener “In Your Arms.” Keen music fans will immediately recognize Kitto, who has lent her vocals on Jungle’s album “Volcano,” and J Lloyd’s indulgent production style has free rein once again. The trance-like delivery of the lyric “I belong in your arms” from Kitto sits atop an atmospheric string section. It brims with warmth, like, well, a warm hug. The tempo is slow, leaving plenty of room in between each note. But like an embrace, the song is finite and under that glow are eerie background vocals that swell with pleading urgency. The song exists in the “honeymoon phase” but it’s not afraid to acknowledge change is inevitable.
In the hands of Kitto’s sonorous voice, impending heartbreak has never sounded so lovely.
This ethereal world dissolves into the groove-filled “Don’t Speak.” The string section is jubilant and there’s plenty of background “oohs” that are just waiting to be spliced and flipped on a hip-hop track. By every definition, this is that toe-tapping, sophisticated dinner party track that chugs along. Except for the fact our nameless lovers are quarreling: “Why did you do it again to me?” Kitto questions, moments after she sings “all you do is mess around.” There’s an unseriousness to the spat, seemingly resolved by the bridge of “Don’t speak (Lemme love you).”
“Cisco Bay,” a personal favorite on the album, serves as an oasis for the protagonists. Is San Francisco where they first spilled their feelings or shared a kiss under a moonlit evening? We only ever hear one side of the relationship through Kitto, and here, her vocals plead to make things work. Again though, the vibe of the song is suited to a nostalgic drive in a ‘70s baby-blue convertible. If her other half can only meet her, “maybe now we can be okay / I’m counting on you.” Her asks are fragile and her voice appears poised to shatter in tears with the line “we can be together.” She’s trying to convince herself that they can mend the rift just as operatic vocals loom over the song’s exit ramp.
Whereas most songs bolster strength for the first few moments with instrumentation before Kitto comes in, this song wants to quash the fighting in the first seconds. “Lessons” wants to be a love song — “no one can hold me / the way that you do” — but instead the lyrics mine for answers. The true lesson of this song is restraint. The lyrics on this track are few yet potent. Then the lush soundscape harkening back to ‘60s pop tropes envelopes the intangible emotions. In the hands of Kitto’s sonorous voice, impending heartbreak has never sounded so lovely.
Those questions asked on “Lessons” materialize in the first line of “Bullet.” “If I’m lonely I’ll be thinking ‘bout you.” The line is almost buried in the sleazy beat and layered into the track are distinct popping sounds mimicking a fired bullet. If I were to join into the culture of placing songs into the binary of “listen” or “skip,” this might be the only song that falls in the latter category because what follows defines the album. “Over.” The song title this romance has been veering toward. This final blow — delivered by Kitto with the help of what sounds like a barbershop quartet echoing her sentiments — is Loaded Honey at their best. Is it overindulgent with vocal patterns and honey-rich production? Yes. Does it yearn for another era with all of the soft hues of Kodachrome? Also yes. Kitto croons her way through the breakup track, taking no pleasure in singing “don’t hold my hand, I know it’s tough.” The album is far from over though.
At this time, listeners get the song “Loaded Honey,” and it’s clear we’re in the post-breakup montage. Think of a romantic comedy lead watching raindrops race down the window of their apartment as they clear Chinese takeout from a cluttered coffee table. Isolate lyrics like “you killed a heart of mine” and it’s a cry for help. But again, the duo take a dark moment and find subtle serendipity in remembering pain. The pop of guitar is enough to forget the predicament of these nameless protagonists.
By the time the bombast of “Tokyo Rain” kicks in, it’s evident time has passed for the characters. Kitto’s lyrics are reflective, apologetic and singularly focused. It’s you, she says. Give me a sign it’s not over, she says. If there were ever a song to compliment a run through the airport to catch The One before they jet off, this is that song. Filled with glistening horns, all that’s missing is the sound of lips meeting lips in triumph. Unlike the opening track, this is a love that will last. There’s no doubtful background vocals, just a self-assured drum pattern propelling the listener, and these two, ever forward. On to the next scene.
During Scene Nine’s “Really Love,” the dreamscape is back, the push and pull of the romance on full display. A discomfited keyboard riff introduces the painful realization that Kitto reveals: “I thought you were the one.” On other songs the music buoyed the despair. On “Really Love,” the duo doubles down, sinking the listener with them. It captures why no song on this tightly wrought album should be listened to on its own. To do so would leave this romance’s story unresolved.
The resolution titled “Hello Stranger” is bittersweet. On its face, the song name indicates that one of the characters is about to start anew with an individual sitting in a smoke-filled gin joint. The title even matches Barbara Lewis’s 1961 song famously used at the end of the film “Moonlight.” But this is a chilling ending to our story, both lyrically and sonically. Kitto isn’t waving to a stranger brimming with flirtatious potential. She’s failing to recognize the person who met her at Cisco Bay, who she forgave and who she ultimately is trying to forget. In 33 minutes, Loaded Honey unfurls a luridly cinematic project. And when those brief moments are over, there’s only one thing to do. Spin it again and feel this all-too-familiar tale wash over for another cycle.
- Doors@7 -