Review Summary: Tears melt ice
28-year-old Swedish songstress Li Lykke Timotej Svensson Zachrisson first earned the attention of listeners with her debut single, 2007’s "Little Bit." On the surface, that song was a perky and sensuous little ditty about passionate no-strings-attached sex, but within it contained references to the inevitable departure of her lover. That tinge of foreboding over the loss of a romantic partner winds up being realized on Li’s gripping new album,
I Never Learn, and is then blown up to its most tragic and tastefully theatric proportions. Every song on this record is about the conclusion of a devoted long-term relationship--or, more precisely, the agonizing blend of guilt and loneliness that it has apparently all brought upon her.
Unlike most breakup albums, there are no obvious daggers pointed towards the “ex” in question. No, Li turns them all on herself, and in the most vividly self-flagellating manners that she can conjure up. “I let my true love down / I had his heart, but I broke it every time,” goes the chorus to this album’s leading single, “No Rest for the Wicked,” and things don’t get any rosier from there. Of course, that kind of unceasing misery could really start to grate over the length of an entire album, so Li makes two very smart choices: she cuts down the running time to a little over half an hour, and she accompanies her tales of grief with an refreshing variety of genres, influences, and instruments.
The opening title track begins with a sturdy acoustic guitar riff, and transitions into a lush tapestry of strings and Shangri-Las-like “ooh-ah-ahhs.” “No Rest for the Wicked” slowly burns from piano patters into a booming, bloodletting, R&B-inspired chorus. “Silver Line” employs a particularly smoky and swirly brand of dream pop that reminds of Beach House. “Gunshot” snaps and rattles with a controlled percussive ferocity worthy of its title. “Love Me Like I’m Not Made of Stone” strips things down to the bare bones and lays the focus onto Li’s soprano vocal range. “Heart of Steel” even brings a gospel choir into the mix.
Perhaps the most obvious point of reference here is Lana Del Rey, who is currently riding into superstardom upon a wave of a similarly self-loathing sad-girl pop. However, while Lizzy Grant’s melancholy is carried about like something of a sleek accessory and seems bred more out of apathy than anything else, Li gives listeners no reason to doubt that she is feeling sincere and genuine pain.
Yet, the weakest aspect of
I Never Learn might be the lyrics, which a bit too often can give off the vibe of an overwrought middle schooler trying to write her first poem. On the title track, she actually rhymes “honey” with itself three times, and right after that ends three lines in a row with “lover.” However, this flaw can be easily overlooked when you have a voice as gorgeous and enchanting as Li’s, and especially when that voice is accompanied by instrumental atmospheres that masterfully convey her message, even when the lyrics sometimes do not.
Li stated in pre-release interviews that listening back on her poppier work, such as "Little Bit," embarrassed her, and that she wanted this album to have more of a consistent gravitas throughout. She can consider that mission well-accomplished. Even if you, dear reader, just can’t get down with this particular brand of bleak balladry, you can at least appreciate that Lykke Li struck out to make the most clichéd of concept albums--a “breakup album--and boldly wrote her own signature on it.
