Lately it seems like 1980s revivalism won’t subside. But there’s something wistful about the latest variety. The synths have the sculpted plastic bigness of Aquanet coifs, the rhythms sway like prom dances, and the lyrics seem tailored toward movie makeouts (or at least heavy stares). It’s become the default sound for a certain rising artist: think small-pop as mall-pop. Even the world of mainstream pop is there: see "Doing It", Charli XCX’s moon-eyed pastiche of "Lucky Star" and "Crazy For You", or Taylor Swift’s record named after and sounding just like 1989, or Carly Rae Jepsen abandoning her prior tween squees for the Dev Hynes-produced prom slow dance "All That". Listening to the revivalists, one would be forgiven for thinking the entire decade took place entirely inside roller rinks, at night, during one long, teary last dance.
As the twin daughters of Steve Kilbey of the Church, Elektra and Miranda Kilbey have a better connection to this side of the '80s than most. Their father's band is best known for the dreamily acoustic "Under the Milky Way", but is also responsible between its members for a small pantheon of side projects, most somewhere in the folk/dream pop realm. And the Kilbey sisters aren't new to the form either: they've trod the pop boards as Say Lou Lou (formerly Saint Lou Lou) since 2012, and at this point, their sound’s crystallized into a formula. The setting will be night, or at least dark: one early track was titled "Better in the Dark", and the sentiment’s repeated at least twice on Lucid Dreaming. Their voices will keen plaintively over the beat. The reverb will sound reverbed. Enough gold and glitter will flow through photography and lyrics to put Tinkerbell, El Dorado, and Kesha out of commission. Listen to more than a few of their songs, and these start seeming less like running motifs and more like a drinking game.
Whether this comes off as heady atmosphere or anemic samey blur depends mostly on how many tracks have passed in succession—their first label, Kitsuné, is best known as a singles label—but there are some highs amid the fog. Opener "Everything We Touch" is as good a condensation of the Say Lou Lou sound as any: a midtempo track that sparkles like an ice palace, full of poetaster plaints ("there’s a ghost in the machine and there’s a glowing light") that do indeed sound better in the dark. "Glitter" is among the more substantial cuts, a lite disco throb reminiscent of the highlights of Little Boots’ Nocturnes.
Elsewhere, sonic departures are so few that they’re almost welcome merely for existing. Lindstrøm collaboration "Games For Girls" uses the twins’ breathy blankness to taunting effect: "I never tell you what I’m thinking about/ I don’t do anything at all," they coo over Lindstrøm’s politely louche disco strut, and the effect is provocative if a bit obvious. Liam Howe-penned "Peppermint" churns the atmosphere into a storm swell: the foregrounded piano, strings, and whispers conjure enough heaving melodrama that the twins get across a truly silly central metaphor.
This isn’t necessarily a given. Early track "Julian" tries for plot, namely that of a young-adult dystopia—"I’ll get us through the checkpoint, I know we’ll be alright"—a Sarah Cracknellian conceit undermined by the Kilbey twins singing it as if the car’s pumping out soma. The entire back half of the album is undeniably pretty in patches—some Eurythmics arpeggiation here, Robert Miles piano there, an obvious hook more or less—but otherwise an indistinguishable haze, put over neither by the bleary-pretty instrumentation or the twins’ somewhat thin voices.
Lucid Dreaming arrives after a succession of delays: debut single "Maybe You" dates back to 2012, they made the BBC Sound of 2014 longlist for tracks that emerged in early 2013, and the new material on Lucid Dreaming isn’t much of a departure from those. For an act so consistent in their sound, it’s hard to get a bead on their ambitions. The chanted hook and big drums of "Nothing But a Heartbeat" suggest Top 40 hopes, but that ground’s been trod often and better. Say Lou Lou’s place would be something like Tove Lo without the biting lyrical voice, or maybe Tegan and Sara’s Heartthrob without the rush of feelings or huge legacy fanbase. They could go full-on dance—a promising option, if not always as starmaking for female vocalists than the usually-men behind the boards. Or they could remain in their current blog-pop lane—a slow, steady path with devotees to be found along the way. After all, nocturnal melancholia sounds glorious during the night. It's just that something’s got to happen once the lights come up.
