With their melodious light pop and weightlessness of voice, French band Luke offers a very polished first album with La Vie Presque, a work of surprising maturity equal to their English counterparts.
From the very first listen most noticeable is the fluidity of the harmonies of the guitars on which the singer's voice carefully floats. The arrangements flow well and inevitably charm the ear. Coldplay, Radiohead, U2 or Echo & The Bunnymen immediately come to mind. These bands built their reputation as melody crafters, which is good sign. In addition to innate musical talent, the other good surprise is the quality of the lyrics. Finely written, the poetic and intelligent texts approach emotional and personal experiments without sinking into self-centered affectation.
The album opens with bewitching arpeggios of "Se taire" that straight away gets the listener on their side and goes to visit "La cour des grands", which shelters an impeccable refrain and the lyrics of soft melancholy. "Comme un gant", another catchy tune, features more aggressive guitars. "Encore une fois" begins with acoustic cords before mounting the pressure with light saturation in the tradition of noisy rock. While "La vie d'en face" is in the same rock vein, "J'aurai aimé te plaire" and "A nos amis" flirt with psychedelic and progressive rock with prominent keyboards. "Dimanche de Vote" launches a more serious warning. "Je n'éclaire que moi" sounds like French rock fave Noir Desir. Following the instrumental "Xoldo", "La dérive" ends the album with beauty.
Pleasant from beginning to end, La Vie Presque is a rare musical treat.