The Lumineers are one of my lifelong passions.
Their debut, self-titled, album frequently featured on my dad’s Pandora station, so I often heard them around the house. During my fifth grade year, they released “Cleopatra,” which I didn’t always understand but enjoyed all the same. They were my introduction to non-musical-theater music as a mode of storytelling, as the album explored the entirety of a woman’s life through music. My independent love of them began in seventh grade school when they creatively stretched themselves with “III,” a multi-generational story of abuse and addiction told in three separate yet cohesive parts. Their accompanying music videos add a visual element to the story, but the core of the narrative is accessible through the music alone.
When they shook up their sound and lyrics with “Brightside,” I was receptive. “Brightside” presented a new angle to their music. The subtle anger in “III” is fully realized in “Brightside,” which is in partly ballads about failed love and rages against the losses of life. Stylistically, their newest album “Automatic” is closest to “Brightside,” with the former almost feeling like an addendum to the latter. However, “Automatic” is wholly its own creation.
There’s a distinct maturity to “Automatic.” It is a maturation of The Lumineers artistry as they transform from introspective to retrospective music. “Automatic” is a reflection of the past. It reconciles with the mistakes made in youth and anger, both of the singer and those around him. It isn’t a bitter album, though, nor is it reproachful.
The neutrality of the tone – avoiding endorsement of past errors while also avoiding condemnation – makes the album one of an adult recognizing the truth of the past.
It perfectly captures the experience of looking back and realizing everything is not what you remember it being, for better and for worse.
The orchestrations are simple and flowing. They perfectly frame the lyrics and the melody while also echoing the themes of the songs. The instrumental tracks like “Strings” and “Sunflowers” are hauntingly poignant and full of feeling. Here, The Lumineers lean into the fact that they are not only singers, but musicians, and they demonstrate their prowess at developing musical themes.
The lyrics are kindred with the music, offering simple, stripped-down wording that communicates its story in a sharp way. They are careful to never emphasize rhyme over meaning, and the resulting lyrics are poetic and emotionally resonant.
In one of my personal favorites, “You’re All I Got,” they masterfully blend the tangible with the implied, singing: “Feelin’ bored and runnin’ from the shame / livin’ for the love of yesterday,” and: “And I can’t give it up like Sisyphus / below the rock/ you’re all that I got.”
This theme is later echoed in “Keys on the Table,” which includes the beautiful lines: “And if you’ve lost the faith, boy / leave your keys up on the table.”
Occasionally, however, this bluntness detracts from the overall effect.
The second track on the album, titled “Asshole,” is a beautifully written recollection of first impressions – often bad – singing: “And I know what you said to me was wrong / but kindness came and bit my tongue,” and: “But maybe now I’m just a coward envying the brave / and every time you tried to let me in / your nails they barely broke the skin.”
The title refrain, though, feels jarring against these words. When the chorus begins with: “The first time that we met / you thought I was an a**hole,” it feels disjointed. This is a fine line for another, angrier song, but the mellowed-out contemplation offered by the song and the album as a whole is disconnected from this idea.
Still, I am charmed enough by this song to return to it, even if I do cringe.
As a whole, “Automatic” is another triumph of The Lumineers and a showcase of their talents as a top contemporary folk/indie/rock group. They’ve not only cemented their consistency within the industry, but shown themselves to be versatile writers and musicians who push themselves to innovate within their industry and genre. I don’t know if this would be my first pick of their albums – “Brightside” and “III” take up so much of my headspace – but I have no doubt some of these songs will find their way onto my constant rotation.
To quote the album and display the heavy yet accessible tone of The Lumineers discography: “We sing the same old song / the same sad song.” Except here, this ‘sad song’ is cathartic.