Review Summary: "I got way too high for this."
Tackling brevity with levity. So does Cameroon-born singer Laetitia Tamko on
Sorry I Haven't Called, her third studio album under the moniker Vagabon. When her friend, fellow musician Eric Littman, passed away at just 31 years old, she thought she'd pen something much more crestfallen, but found herself oscillating more towards "catharsis, euphoria, joy."
Sorry I Haven't Called is the dreamy and vivacious soundtrack of a woman towering above the adversity. On "Passing Me By," she laments "I see you out and I miss your laugh," only to puff out her chest on the cocksure "Made Out With Your Best Friend." "Made out with your best friend and he
loved it," she taunts. Tamko is only this insolent in small doses on the album. In other places, like on the pondering closer "Anti-F*ck," she's visibly vulnerable; "Am I wrong to decide? The last thing I want is unknown," she confesses.
Having previously been a proponent of indie rock, Laetitia seems to have fleshed out a shimmery and comfortable electropop territory. That's not to say she still doesn't draw on rock influences. "Anti-F*ck" is also defined by its purposeful, if subdued, electric guitar fills that guide the track to a soft landing on the outro. Tamko is much more of a crooner than a belter, but she has such a soft and pretty tone in her voice and makes good use of it on tracks like early standout "Lexicon." Backed by warm acoustic guitars and driving drum fills, she further comes to terms with what she can't change ("It's hard for me to let you go"). "Nothing to Lose" trades luscious keys with skittering beats and overlapping vocal lays. On "Do Your Worst," she seems much more assured in her ability to cut the wire; "You turn me into someone I don't f*ck with, I don't like myself when I'm with you," she admits.
Tamko's brand of pop is consistently breezy, understated and
intimate. Her vocals are coated with a pinch of reverb, but not utterly drenched in it, which helps the whole production retain a great deal of personality. Few, if any moments ("You Know How" maybe) thump with bass heavy enough to propel them onto the dance floor, but that's okay. Tamko toys with a wide breadth of topics, but the underlying continuity present throughout is the comforting liberation of being who she is and being at peace with the outcome. What I take away from
Sorry I Haven't Called is an eagerness to go along for the voyage towards the unknown and to see where it leads. "I'm ready to leave with you." Are
you ready?
