Duality feels like the sort of song that people say, “they don’t make them like that anymore.” Not that it feels retro or stylistically outdated, it is just something in its make up, its integrity, its perfect generic splicing which marks it out as a sound apart from the main pack of the modern musical race. There is an inherent soulfulness and rhythmic groove, it is driven when it needs to make a point, soothing when it wants to seduce. It also works in, if not the dark corners of pop, then certainly amongst the shadowed and exploratory fringes.
And pop it is, but as far from the usual chart fare as you are likely to find. Yet when you hold up the pop yardstick to Duality it ticks all the right boxes. Accessible, clever, memorable, dynamic, emotive (bordering on brooding) and showing more of the rock and blues roots, to which all modern pop owes its living, than most cares to expose. Maybe this isn’t a reflection of what pop used to be but a template for its possible future. The fact that Lily Oakes has a scant on-line presence normally only reserved for winners of The Voice, only adds to the mystery.