This Is Lorelei is your favourite artist’s new favourite artist. Probably. Fronted by Water From Your Eyes’ multi-instrumentalist Nate Amos, the group’s irreverent take on indie rock has won them friends in high places, having collaborated or hung out with names like The Dare, Snail Mail, and MJ Lenderman. In the second show of their two-day residency at the MOTH Club, the crowd featured famous faces from bands mary in the junkyard and Black Country, New Road. It should not be surprising that the humble Amos, who crouches into the microphone and communicates in introverted sotto voce, has accrued a veritable “who’s who” of indie music in his entourage. This Is Lorelei purvey slacker rock which does not slack when it comes to pushing boundaries. In spite of simplistic guitar strumming, touches of traditional Americana, and straightforward lyrics, This Is Lorelei cannot help but add ornamental flourishes which makes their tunes about dogs and hotels distinctively idiosyncratic.
When it comes to solo performances, there are typically two approaches. The first is the obvious: a stripped-down set, with acoustic instrumentation and minimal involvement of bands or backing tracks. It’s a style which puts the artist in the spotlight and says: “the music is me; I am the music.” The other approach is inspired by the 1960s jam band movement, where singer-songwriter tracks are expanded and explored by musical collaborators on stage, with unfolding jams and diminished emphasis on the artfulness of the songwriting, which should be obvious from the album the show is there to promote. This Is Lorelei takes a wholly original approach. Any music-maker will know the process of songwriting where a partially written song is put before the band for the first time. It’s a pivotal moment, where chords, melodies and rough lyrics are laid out bare. By the end of the first play-through, the band has locked in a bass line, some drumming ideas are expressed, and tentative backing vocals are hushed. It is a potentially magical part of the process, conveyed with great poignancy by This Is Lorelei.
The band opened with the wistful alt-country swayer ‘Angel’s Eye’. A compelling Americana duet, the song comes from a bonafide canon of bittersweet romantic duets, immediately reminiscent of Johnny Cash and June Carter. Following ‘Angel’s Eye’ is the pensive and contemplative art pop gem ‘Perfect Hand’. It recalls Radiohead’s ‘In Rainbows’ with its trippy piano motifs, frantic electronica beat, and reed-thin, delicate vocals. The emphasis on point-of-synthesis renditions remains. The unique electronic curiosities speckled over the track listing, however, are still present for the live show. Commitment to a schtick never let a good artist forget what made them stick in people’s hearts.
‘I’m All Fucked Up’ was an early standout, an upbeat, stream-of-consciousness anthem. ‘I’m All Fucked Up’ is typical of Amos’ lyrical conventions, a balancing act between metaphorical, abstract narratives, and tragically stark confessions (“I wanna steal every happy thought you have / Fucking nickel, fucking dime / Trade them back to you for mine“). This song tells the story of a couple on a trip to Spain as they recognise their dependence on one another to keep each other regulated and safe in times of vulnerability – despite the challenging complexities of their relationship. Like all great romantic songs, it portrays a detailed portrait of a complex relationships against the backdrop of a tour of Spain, with enough blurs in the paint to capture the nuance. It does all this with an exceptional ear for a chorus, as repetitive banjo picking interweaves with frantic guitar strumming.
The next cut is the showstopping ‘Dancing In the Club’, the song that made This Is Lorelei famous. Or rather, the MJ Lenderman cover did. It’s a team-up that makes perfect sense: both songwriters have similar stage presence; leaning into the mic, devoid of antics, avoiding distractions. ‘Dancing In the Club’ is an “on the road” song about geographical and emotional separation from a lover. It’s full of sound bites and one-liners, from “I know its only fair that I should end up all embrassed / ‘cause you were laughing in the rain while I was crying here in Paris” to “A loser never wins / and I’m a loser, always been.” This Is Lorelei addresses self-hate in a way that is as self-deprecating as much as it is charming. Ever since ‘Creep’ by Radiohead, I thought we had enough songs about being a loser. Amos sings about it so eloquently, he changed my mind. There are new things to be said about being lame.
‘Where’s Your Love Now’ was surely a highlight of the evening. I realised, as the rousing organ came in alongside quirked-up tubular bells, that This Is Lorelei constructs his songs like Motown. The tasteful glockenspiel, the brass-substituting instrumentation, and repetitive basslines, are all indicative of Holland-Dozier-Holland. ‘Where’s Your Love Now’ is the most notable example of this, with its organ refrain which alludes to Isaac Hayes’ progressive soul magnum opus ‘Walk On By’. Ostensibly a break-up song, it feels so reciprocal I feel the lyrics are looking inwards: “I’m gonna let me be angry / ‘cause I tried to be fine for too damn long.” ‘Box For Buddy, Box For Star’ is essentially an album about personal transformation. ‘Where’s Your Love Now’ is a palpable, moving ballad dedicated to surmounting the temptation of anger to achieve growth on the other side.
Elliot Smith has influenced ever great songwriter since the ‘90s, and Amos is no exception. As the set drew to a close, the song ‘Two Legs’ channeled Smith’s whisper-singing found on songs such as ‘Baby Britain’, matched with elaborate, neo-psychedelic production that could be featured on Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. Although somewhat lacking without the album version’s characteristic harp, the band’s playful performance meant none of the whimsy was lost. The final two songs on the setlist were unreleased crowd-pleasers, demonstrating a more punky, danceable vibe that has more in common with Amos’ work with Water From Your Eyes. The final song, an electropop stomper entitled ‘I Need My Dog’, brought frantic electronics to the fore, with quick-fire synth blips driving one of the catchiest choruses of the night. The beat constantly threatened to veer into four-on-the-floor disco territory, though it never quite delivered the satisfacted. It closed the set with pop triumph.
