Laetitia Sadier is a master of deceptive sweetness, smuggling unflinching politics into an indie-rock landscape not known for its ethical fortitude. In Stereolab she wrapped lyrics about war, capitalist collapse, and fascism into soaringly groovy pop songs, while Little Tornados, her group with filmmaker David Thayer, tackled exploitative economic systems over honeyed guitar licks. Her juxtapositions have never sounded more jarring—or uncomfortable—than they do on Rooting for Love, Sadier’s fifth solo album and first since Stereolab reunited in 2019.
“Don’t Forget You’re Mine” exemplifies the record’s subversive audacity. It is, ostensibly, a gentle pop song; its dulcet melody, bright chord changes, and lush strings are reminiscent of the lounge music and ’60s pop that were among Stereolab’s myriad influences. But the lyrics—written by Véronique Vincent, of veteran Belgian experimentalists Aksak Maboul—paint a sickening portrait of femicide, leading to the stomach-churning line “A good slap is what you need/A good slap is what you want/Take that, take that/Get up, get up, babe.” The contrast between musical mood, lyrical darkness, and Sadier’s almost standoffish tone—a model of cool, melodic mystery—is genuinely unsettling, a reminder of the singer’s long history as a politically charged disruptive force in modern music.
This isn’t the only moment that recalls Sadier’s storied past. Stereolab covered so much ground over their two-decade recording career—try to name a genre that the band didn’t dabble in—and Sadier, as the band’s singer, songwriter, lyricist, and co-founder, was so integral to their sound that trying to move her solo work from under Stereolab’s shadow feels like an awkward parlor game. Perhaps realizing this, Sadier leans into her history on Rooting for Love: The album’s palette of humming synths, wandering bass, gentle vibraphone clatter, and intricate backing vocals suggest Stereolab with the guitars turned down.
“Panser L’inacceptable” hints at the space-age Gallic pop of Mars Audiac Quintet; “La Nageuse Nue” reflects the jazz-influenced dreaminess of Dots and Loops, and “Une Autre Attente” assimilates Margerine Eclipse’s wounded drive. Straying further afield, “Who + What” has a modish trip-hop beat not atypical of Stereolab, exactly, but not quintessential either, while “The Inner Smile” rides out on a thrilling flute freak that suggests (very) early Kraftwerk, rather than Stereolab’s more typical kosmische influences Neu! and Can.
The songwriting is distinguished by its bite and brevity. “New Moon” boasts a chorus as sharp as biting down on a lemon, while the gorgeous about-faces of the shifting chord changes of “Une Autre Attente” suggest the twists and turns of a classic Hitchcock film morphed into a perfect pop package.
What leaves a lasting impression, though, is the quiet fury of an ideologically engaged, masterful pop dramatist who understands the power of understatement and artful contrast. “Cloud 6,” the album’s closer, has a similar force to “Don’t Forget You’re Mine.” A gently cycling keyboard melody serves as a base for vibraphone, strings, and a coiled circle of backing vocals, as Sadier sings about power and pocket knives, before killing the song—and the album—stone dead with the venomous closing line “I’m not fucking around/You’re halfway dead.” It’s a magisterial mic drop by an artist who never lost faith in the power of pop to shock and delight.
