Synthophonic Lush is totally an album you could have made. But you didn’t, did you? And you’re kicking yourself now, aren’t you? There are synthesizers on Synthophonic Lush, and voices — instruments of music making that require a certain skill set employable towards a common goal as a band to create a unique and beautiful work of art (in this case, an album, or more specifically, an album on cassette tape). And indeed Joy and Revolution has employed a technical prowess to whatever degree it needed to in order to achieve this mini-pop, micro-twee miracle of a tape… But still, you could have made it, and you didn’t. The point is that the melodies, lyrics and song structures (upon which this album hinge all but entirely) are all forehead-slappingly simple, and therein of course lies their true genius. From a shy and wispy girl who sounds like she could give about one-and-a-half damns come questions of morals and self-worth and love-lost that only she can answer, yet refuses to (although we adore hearing all about them), while repetitive verses of synth and electro-beats swing or sway or stomp or slink or saunter gingerly beneath, most often between a grand total of two chords each. And the end result is magnificently intoxicating: Dreamy, psychedelic, coma-inducing… As much for a night drive as it is for falling asleep to, or maybe doing nothing at all. Joy and Revolution put in an effort here that works really hard at sounding like it’s lazy.
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