Love in Reverse, the acclaimed ensemble of Michael Ferentino, Andres Karu and Dave Halpern, rolls a new epic onto the playing field: Keep Upright. It's been in development for a spell, with the ardent tease of a couple, catchy singles last year, but now it stands in whole, and whoa!, does it ever strike a comforting, consummate chord.
The title track (situated as the album's third) is, in fact, the key to understanding the concept's behavioral fabric, encouraging one to stand up and endure, in light of any and all ongoing trouble. It's a self-help kind of anthem, evading that devilish voice that promotes misery and woe, a path devoid of pretense or demands, tapping a contemplative courage that runs thick and fast through Keep Upright's related veins.
For example, "This Heavy Feeling" (the first in the ten-track queue) captures the confines of fatalism in a manner that only Love in Reverse could render. It speaks of overcoming anxiety, explaining how nothing makes much sense when one faces trepidation, when one's soul feels enflamed, when one's brain proves a terrible trickster.
"Summer of Horror" is next up, its title invoking a campground slaughter, but it's much more than that. Through Ferentino's pensive lyrics, a love is crashed and burned, or perhaps it's one that's never been born. The resulting pain, in all its glaring glory, presses through: identifiable to all who've yearned for a significant other, only to be ignored.
"Too Much Thinking" follows the title track, reflecting daily concerns, when one worries about this and that, blowing that oh-so-important chance to keep some order. Ferentino's vocals drive this home with compassion and rage, with a heart-in-the-right-place empathy and I daresay, an ample layer of encroaching dread, which paints a vibrant denouncement of the no-way-out, rat race.
"Care" commences the album's thematic flipside: a rejection of emotional baggage. To my ears, the track is a sweeping, relationship song, acknowledging the horrid flaws of one's constitution that a loved one may rub in one's face, and therefore pushes the need for one to sever the necessary ties and escape.
"Gently Screaming" pays homage to George Harrison's "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," but with a quickening cry that squeezes a listen-up plea, even when acknowledging that the game is fixed. It calls out zombies (in The Hooters tradition), instructing the populace to take note and avoid the bad that one unwittingly seeks.
The latter's message is re-imagined in "Lost Weekend," a title that brings to mind Ray Milland and an empty bottle, but it's really an antidote for fighting decades of doldrums. "Lost Weekend'"s chanted beat, its encircling, euphoric bounce, is sweet and contagious, which makes the act of gaining salvation, of falling in love, credible and as such, acceptable.
"Lobotomy Song" swings the euphoria even higher, stretching a winding pass, with an on-the-road, 1970s feel. It celebrates shutting off one's brain, taking a vacation from the state of the nation and existing behind a satisfied, smile-less smile.
Its sequel, "Let Her Run," creates another path to freedom, with an unshackled exaltation that's modern and spacey, with the fortitude to diminish a virulent lass and in so doing, leaving one all the better for it.
"Little Bird" ends the album's journey on soft, soaring wings. Its theme presses the need to please only oneself and not give a damn what the haters say. In this regard, it rejects those who reject, for the views of others mean nothing if they keep one glum. In this severance, this pervading punctuation, comes transcendental peace: indeed, the best means of all to keep upright.
Keep Upright offers much to consume and appreciate. Attend the musical lecture at
https://open.spotify.com/album/2xIYpETnNUa7I2IQ8kwkWj?si=1&nd=1&dlsi=7bf5f9a71bae48e9
No comments:
Post a Comment