Lydia Cole-Me & Moon

Jenn Cohen | April 1, 2012 | 0 Comments

by Sal Christ

Photo Credit: Lydia Cole

The ever-heavy Chuck Palahniuk novel, “Fight Club,” declares, “Only after disaster can we be resurrected,” and considering the 18 months traversed between Lydia Cole’s first EP Love Will Find A Way and Me & Moon—her first full-length album—it’s entirely applicable. The 11-track record features acoustic tracks so emotionally lightless and parturient they float above the forlorn heartache from which Cole’s music must have bloomed, only because said heartache weighs more.

Love letters addressed to vestiges of an exhausted relationship and former life filled with moments the singer no longer embodies: these are what Cole proffers, which she literally admits in “Love and Loss and Love,” a track whose foundations build on strummed guitar, subtle cymbals and snare, and the occasional bright piano. Cole is one hell of a composer and lyricist, having collaborated with producer Nic Manders and instrumentalists Jono Wilson and Jol Mulholland. The singer keeps things simple and uncomplicated—an ageless quality haunts every track, entirely defying temptation to tack an age on the songbird. Additive is the affectation of Cole’s native kiwi accent, which meanders up and down in timbre and casts additional ardent depth to the shared dialogue of every song.

“Blind Boy,” the opening track on the album, instantly calls to mind Ray LaMontagne’s 2007 tune, “Be Here Now,” with its lolling, sustained piano and marching guitar. A slightly bitter lament, the song serves something of a kiss-off to the now-former significant other. Consequently, “What We Were,” remains an acceptance of the relationship as it was meant to be—simultaneously conceding the relationship’s destiny, but also questioning whether the ex-partner understands what the relationship represented in its entirety. The final track on Me & Moon imbues a lasting sense of wisdom gained. “Unhinged my lock, turned a page…I start over again,” she says in “The End of An Age,” acknowledging that there’s little to do, but move forward. A rich, legato piano verse trails beneath male backup vocals in what is perhaps the most pragmatic, yet uplifting, song on the entire album. Cole has loved and lost what she loved, but is no longer caged by the ghosts of loss.

A stunning debut, Me & Moon may well be the softer, less angry answer to the many, many caustic breakup songs put forth in the ‘90s by Ben Folds. Sincere and haunting, Cole knows how to break the heart with honesty. While the singer is currently unsigned, it would not be of surprise if she landed on a well-known label at some future date—a voice like hers isn’t one to be wasted.

http://lydiacole.bandcamp.com/album/me-moon