“What if I’m just a bad songwriter and everything I say has been said before?” ponders Christopher Owens at the beginning of ‘Love Is In The Ear Of The Listener’, a track that proves as slushy as its title suggests. Having called time on short-lived moody indie outfit Girls last summer, Owens quickly assembled his first solo foray, Lysandre.
A concept record that feels slight (clocking in at just under 30 minutes), scattershot and occasionally clumsy, Lysandre really is a very different take on what Owens has to offer. The concept is part of the problem. For example, his decision to pepper the first four songs proper with a reprisal sting of the opening ‘Lysandre’s Theme’ is misguided: at least for me it is musically dystracting to the point of irritation.
Of those numbers, ‘New York City’ is cute enough, mixing a jaunty vibe with grim admissions – “I remember begging my best friend for my life / He cut me and his wife with a pocket knife” – but the effect is compromised by the presence of an utterly needless saxophone assault. Further jovial adventures appear in the form of the breezy ‘Riveria Rock’ and the saccharine, flute-driven title track.
Kudos to Owens for having the courage to attempt something new, but his punches never quite land. It is one thing to question, ‘What if nobody ever gets it?’ in that tortured artiste way but it rings a bit hollow if the substance isn’t there to warrant it. Lysandre is unlikely to feature on any album of the year lists.