Kllo’s Simon Lam and Chloe Kaul are masters of juxtaposition, infusing their bubbling electro-pop beats with mellow R&B vocals and a churning, ever-present sense of yearning. Fittingly, they named their album after the bodies of water that “rest beyond a current’s reach,” those seen as “stagnant and turbid.” Backwater, the duo’s debut full length, is a collection of songs written while the cousins “waded in figurative backwater,” experiencing the excitement of a world tour but also while homesick for their hometown of Melbourne. At their best, the songs on Backwater capture the mixed feelings Lam and Kaul experienced while writing them, artfully weaving heartache through intrepid pop hooks. However, despite their claims that this is their most adult music yet, the songs don’t feel like they have matured much from the disjointed lyrics and pleasant-but-homogeneous electronic beats of their last EP, Well Worn.
As with their previous releases, Kaul’s voice is consistently a treat, pouring smooth like cream into coffee as it twists through a backbone of Lam’s UK garage-inspired beats. On “Last Yearn,” Kaul’s tenderness adds layers of emotional complexity to otherwise straightforward lyrics about the end of a relationship. When she sings, “Where are we going?/I need some closure from you/Where do we go from here?” her crooning injects the loneliness of ending a relationship with the softness of remembering why you loved the other person in the first place. On album highlight “Downfall,” her voice draws out short, abstract phrases about loss and attempted resilience and suspends them in an ether of skittering drums and synth. Kaul is a sonic anchor as the instrumentals somersault forward at a thrilling pace, making the song at once exhilarating and comforting.
Still, the beauty of Kaul’s vocals can only take the album so far. The lyrics, more often than not, function like hashtags that declare the theme of an Instagram post rather than like poetry that captures life experiences with nuance. The album deals extensively with heartache, but rarely provides details that make the narratives feel personal or unique. On “Dissolve,” Kaul sings, “Called it forever/We’re caught in the game/Well maybe we’re both to blame/Putting this under pressure.” In just four lines, the song addresses unfulfilled expectations, confusion, regret, and anxiety, but never elaborates on why or how the narrator experiences these myriad emotions. “Nylon” starts with potential, a slower, more contemplative track on which Kaul laments that she doesn’t want to die young and needs “someone to rely on.” It feels like she is about to make herself vulnerable by delving into her fears and insecurities, but again, she only skims the surface. Why is she afraid she’s going to die young? How does she express this fear? What does it look like when she relies on someone else? Her lyrics evoke these questions but never answer them.
Of course, dancefloor music evokes emotion viscerally and physically, not necessarily linguistically. But, when words take a back seat, the music has to tell a story; it has to build or wallow or surprise the listener to remain captivating. Much of the instrumental narrative on Backwater lacks conviction. The lyrics generally circle around the same themes throughout, and the dance beats follow suit. Many of the songs are longer than necessary and the looped and distorted backing vocals can be distracting rather than cohesive, as on lead single “Virtue.” The ocean of synths throughout the album create an ethereal ambiance consistent with their earlier work but are rarely distinct from one song to another. These sonic elements give Kllo’s music a rich sheen that makes them pleasant to listen to, but that doesn’t always stick after the music stops playing. The duo clearly have good stories, but need to expand the range of emotions they use to tell them.
