After a two-year break in releases, Lucid Lip left listeners ravenous for more smoky alt-rock that refuses to pledge allegiance to any sub-genre or era. Their debut album, Face Paint, exhibits the artist at the zenith of their affecting, emotion-driven songwriting.
The opening title single charges through the carnivalesque absurdity of our twisted modernity, making lamenting proclamations, thick with painfully relatable frustration instead of self-pity, allowing them to harmonise over euphorically tempered synth-rock melodies that are fraught with tension, and when you think you’ll get the aural adrenaline hit from the juiciest crescendo, Lucid Lip cuts the music, whispering before the fuzzy polyphonic synth rapture hits like an intravenous shot of electricity.
Honestly, the debut album deserves its own Broadway musical; THAT’S how sensational the thematically theatrical album is. Lucid Lip doesn’t go for the obvious observations; they dig deeper under the skin, excavating the emotions that turn souls into static monochrome while closing our window of tolerance ever tighter.
Having spent over a decade in New York City, the group have carried their high-energy live force through Rockwood Music Hall, The Bitter End, Arlene’s Grocery, Our Wicked Lady and SXSW in Austin, Texas. They’re practically barking with pedigree and playlist appeal to fans of St. Vincent, Radiohead, Alabama Shakes and Black Pumas.
Face Paint is now available on all major streaming platforms, including Spotify.
Review by Amelia Vandergast
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