4 out of 5

Label: Dead Oceans

Produced by: Pietro Amato

At first listen, say over some computer speakers, The Luyas are… just another band.  The synthy pop with head-nodding beats; the frail, somewhat cutesy female vocals…  You can pretty much imagine the skinny, soft-spoken folk swaying along at the concerts.  But let’s say you give ‘Animator’ another pass, this time over some headphones.  More qualities seem to come out: subtle, snakey beats woven underneath the most prominent layer; Jessie Stein’s occasionally cryptic, contemplative lyrics not quite matching the initially floating-on-clouds vibe.  The cover art might hit at this point: a confusing swirl of smoke and fabric, a mystic figure in the middle surrounded by this.  It’s a valid metaphor for the album.  ‘Animator’ is a mash-up of beauty and chaos, the pop sheen constantly crept up on by vague, skittery, spidery sounds, Stein singing of loss in a voice that seems carefree but might actually just be detached…  Songs swoon from haunting, groove-laden mystery (opened ‘Montuno’) into tracks that sound more and more aggressive upon each spin (‘Fifty/Fifty,’ ‘Traces’).  The album starts to drift a bit too much in its last half, with ‘Earth Turner’ devolving into a discordant splash of sounds that draws too much attention, dispelling the previous subtlety, leading into the quiet but simple ‘Talking Mountains.’  The mood become appropriately prickly again with ‘Traces,’ but the album ends with the underwhelming ‘Channeling,’ leaving the disc’s conclusion feeling unfinished versus the bracing front half.

For some, ‘Animator’ will probably appeal right away.  For the rest of us, it make take a few more tries, but once you’re wrapped up, the unsettling beauty is undeniable.