I knew nothing about Lume before I was turned on to Wrung Out, their 2018 sophomore record that perfectly encapsulated everything right with the doomy grunge/shoegaze hybrid of bands like Cloakroom, The Life and Times, Teenage Wrist, and Superheaven. And while their debut might not carry itself quite as deftly, it’s still a more-than-respectable first-outing.
As a massive fan of its follow up, I was delighted when I discovered that Perennial Phase offered no surprises. The same ideas that made Wrung Out such a frequent visitor to my turntable are present here, though a little less refined.
“Violent Light” opens with a single electric guitar riff modulating between major and minor figures of the same chord before being joined by a massive wall of bass fuzz and crashing cymbals. After that blistering explosion, things quiet down for a morose verse before bursting again for the chorus. We all know the drill by now—the atmospheric-verse/wall of noise chorus is nothing new for anyone—but when it’s executed well, the results are (chef’s kiss). “Weed” follows the same pattern, though its sonic bursts are more celebratory.
The seven-minute “Rattleback” encapsulates the best and worst moments of this record. The first few minutes roll in a zen-like, crushing major key, offering up the same blissful heaviness as HUM. But four minutes in, the band pauses and a single guitar shifts to a minor key. The band builds on the repeats, vocalist Daniel Butler barely breaking a whisper as he sings a mournful tune. But just as the song explodes, he adopts a sort of half-sung scream that feels a bit jarring. It’s forgivable, and on repeated listens it hasn’t grated on me the same, but I am glad that he decided against using the same affectation on Wrung Out.
After the abrupt ending of “Rattleback,” side 2 opens with “Lie Beneath,” a two-minute piece of crushing bliss with even-more-buried vocals that plays more like a segue than a song. “In Spades” builds a bit more slowly than the rest of the songs, and to great affect. Butler’s voice sings accompanied by nothing but his own clean guitar, bass and drums making their entrances more gently than usual. But once it gets there, it ends with the heaviest moment on the album. It then shifts seamlessly into “A Routine,” a straightforward and rewarding grunge rocker. “Never Been” closes the record with the spaciest chords and richest atmosphere on the disc (and some more of that sing-scream, which is better executed here), including a sample of a woman discussing an encounter with a ghost.
It’s not as focused as Wrung Out, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. While the follow up navigated its own sonic peaks and valleys with complete confidence, there are some risks taken here that pay off more often than not. While the semi-screams might not always land, the instrumentation often punches above its weight, and delivers a few knock outs. Overall, this is an album that celebrates the power that can happen when a few individuals get together with guitars, loud amps, and a drum set. That celebration might be undermined by the mix in a few places, but it’s not worth ignoring.