AMANDA LAFFERTY ’21
There are albums that make you dance, others that make you think, some that make you want to sink into your bed and drift off into an unknown abyss, and very few that combine all three.
Electronic musician Yves Tumor, who has frequently declined to reveal his permanent location, has recently released his highly anticipated third album, Safe in the Hands of Love, an album that’s full of melancholy, rage, and beauty, the latter that is sometimes apparent and at other ti
mes hidden amongst the instrumentation and lyrics.
The album title, Safe in the Hands of Love, sounds delicate and comforting. Listeners will quickly discover the complexities of the album title and how each of Tumor’s lyrics and melodies shape these intricacies.
Certain tracks hold onto Tumor’s recognized ambient-focused aesthetic. Others build upon this, often within the same track, and expand into pop-centric and easily danced-to songs.
The production, mixing, and conceptual efforts on Tumor’s newest release are collectively ethereal. He bends genres, folding one into another in the most unexpected manners, whether that is through the instrumentation or in the song’s composition.
Melancholy weaves itself into various tracks including “Licking an Orchid,” a track with a music video as beautiful as the song itself. The track features James K, who offers absolutely buttery, soothing, and enchanting vocals on a song that fades into beautiful darkness and decay.
“Noid” holds an acute sense of chaotic harmony, both through the lyricism Tumor employs and through the instrumentation. On the surface, it’s quite a catchy track. Yet as the track unfolds, the chaos and complexities further develop. The track ends with the especially poignant lyric “911,” repeated several times, adding to the track’s ability to grip and hold onto the listener’s attention.
The final track, “Let the Lioness In You Flow Freely” sounds exactly as the title describes it. The album’s common theme of chaotic beauty is evident through the constant crashing of drum cymbals over a looping guitar riff and the powerful, sometimes screamed and layered vocals. The outro, which features a vocal sample from Jan Haflin, ends abruptly with, “let me be your angelfire, let me be your angel and…” There’s no fade out and no forewarning of the end of the song or album, but the sudden drop-off works entirely with the complex nature of Tumor’s powerful album.
Yves Tumor’s third LP shows the artist’s growth as a musician and leaves high expectations for the artist’s future musical efforts.
If this album isn’t on your radar already, open up your Spotify and hop to it. Even better, listen to the album on vinyl and get ready to immerse yourself in the menacing and captivating world of Yves Tumor.
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