Loney, Dear: Loney, Noir


With a title and a band name like Loney, Dear, you wouldn’t be remiss to expect some severe wrist-slit baroque morbidity along the lines of Portishead.  Sorry.  But if you’re up for another helping of Swedish twee, save some room – Lonely, Dear piles it on with a heavy ladle.  Woodwinds, little boy lost vocals, burlap handclaps, trilling flutes – it’s all here.  Put “I Am John” on during your next grad school mixer and watch socially inept Humanities majors dance like Peanuts in the Charlie Brown Christmas Special.  With no song reaching the four-minute mark, the album breezes by at a brisk pace, but little of it resonates.  The over-enunciated apologetic intro to “I Am the Odd One” elicits cringes.  For airy Scando-pop at its best, just keep listening to "I’m From Barcelona."

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