The new album by L.Y.R., their third commercial release, begins with the idea that the furthest points of light – stars – can only be seen in the dark. It’s a kind of contradiction that finds musical expression in these new tracks, the band always navigating towards sightings of hopefulness and constancy in an increasingly bewildering and storm-battered world.
The term dark sky reservation has its origins in environmentalism, and several tracks on the album deal with the messed-up weather of our contemporary planet, both meteorological and psychological, from descriptions of an earth deluged by thunderstorms to the soggy back-gardens of suburbia, a climate crisis brought on by rampant urbanism. In that context, dark sky reservations are those regions of the landscape where light pollution is discouraged and even outlawed, to allow scientists and casual stargazers to peer into the cosmos and see the glory of the constellations, patterns of light that have entranced and mystified us for hundreds of thousands of years.
It’s from those designated zones that human beings get a sense of their place in the universe, and experience the wonder of the here and now against a context of eternity and infinity. An alternative to the hectic craziness of everyday life, so often virtual and synthetic, the dark sky reservation is a place of refuge and dreaming, and like L.Y.R.’S music, such spaces are earmarked for contemplation and thoughtfulness.
Through the subtle lyrics of the title track the words take on another meaning, to do with doubt, uncertainty and hesitation – a questioning of the soul and the self. The term reservation also hints at an appointment – a time and place, a remote location, after twilight – where music and language might rendezvous and combine to make something harmonious.
However much Armitage’s lyrics nag away at the conscience and observe the shaky human predicament, Pearson’s hypnotic, mesmerising compositions and Walters’ ethereal soaring vocals always reach for beauty and melody. Or when minor chords are struck in the music, Armitage’s poetry steers in the direction of consolation and redemption. So lovers try to connect in the alienating world of commercialised art (Guernica Jigsaw); a cinema-goer is bamboozled by the choice of spernatural films on offer (Blah! Blah! Blah!); the heavens open again (French Cursive) and again (A Walled Garden); a litany of metaphors honour those citizens of the world without a roof over their head (Eclipse); a collared dove throws off the shackles of its own name (Collared Dove); daydreaming is celebrated as an art form (Under Artificial Lighting); and the human heart shines brightly (Sirius Alpha, Sirius Beta). Out of the gathering dusk comes forth illumination.
