With
the Walkmen
and on his first two albums after that band went on hiatus,
Hamilton Leithauser
collaborated with some of indie rocks' brightest lights. On
The Loves of Your Life
, he continues that trend, but is working alone. Along with all the singing and songwriting,
Leithauser
produced the album and played everything on it, but unlike many one-person projects, it never feels insular. In fact,
is often looser and freer than any of his previous solo work. Where
Black Hours
and
I Had a Dream That You Were Mine
sometimes felt like fading memories, this album is all about the life in its title.
's songs burst with the joy and vibrancy of experiencing different kinds of love, and how their presence continues to be important, rather than something to stow away in the past. On the bustling "Cross-Sound Ferry," the old times and the present rub elbows in the form of old friends and young family; on "Wack Jack," the ache in
's voice when he sings "Won't hurt you anymore/But I still keep your picture lying in a drawer" feels universal.
blends his musical past and present just as fluently. There's still a hint of his work with
Rostam Batmanglij
in the album's free-flowing sound, especially when
revisits the dream doo wop of
on "The Stars of Tomorrow" (somewhat tangentially,
's literate, comfortable but not complacent vibe echoes the feel of
Vampire Weekend
's first album without
Batmanglij
,
Father of the Bride
). Of course, there are still echoes of
in
's music, particularly on "Til Your Ship Comes In"'s rattling, reverbed stomp, but he continues to take that sound in his own very personal directions. The album's earthy, largely acoustic palette suits the grounded yet rollicking nature of songs such as "Here They Come" and "Isabella," where breezy pedal steel and harmonies hark back to the country-pop of the late '70s and early '80s. Similarly,
's songwriting feels more intimate and immediate without losing any of its poetry. He begins "The Other Half"s soulful pop reverie with a line worthy of a novel: "I could hear your knuckles on the walnut boards." On "Don't Check the Score," a sweetly roundabout way of telling someone close to him to be happy with the way things turned out, he drags out each word of the lyric "You left your lipstick kissed into a paper cup half-filled with ginger ale" like he doesn't want to let it go. By the time
closes with the joyous "The Old King,"
stretches his music into a wide embrace of the past and present that's all the more impressive because it feels so lived-in and genuine. ~ Heather Phares