Samara Lubelski's music is hermetic in a good way. She often plays and records with other musicians, yet her solo work remains impervious to their influence or external factors such as trends or technological advancement. On Wavelength, her sixth album, she's still living in her own private sound-world-- you could even say she's retreated further into it. This despite the fact that since her last effort, 2009's Future Slip, she's been as busy as ever, playing in Thurston Moore's band (and now Chelsea Light Moving) as well as in Metal Mountains. But Wavelength sounds as though it could have been recorded a day after Future Slip.
This stubborn consistency works because Lubelski's sound itself is hermetic. Her brand of subdued closet-pop, with its gentle melodies, restrained instrumentation, and muted production, could have gone directly from her mind to tape. That's especially true of her captivating singing, a low-key purr which sounds like she's covering her mouth with her hand and whispering a secret in your ear. Which is perhaps why songs as simple and consistent as hers can, if you're inclined toward her particular kind of spell-casting, send small shivers up your spine and raise goose bumps on your skin.
On Wavelength, that effect comes most often from the quicker, fuller pieces. A brisker pace and more active mix allows Lubelski to smartly sneak her charms into your ears. The snaky curves of "Jammage Cruiser" and "Hang of Summer" genuinely sound like magic, with their sparkly accents and wrap-around melodies. When she revs up even more, as with the title track's Velvet Underground-ish chug, that magic expands geometrically. But when she backs off, her tunes have a tendency to blur together. It's a sweet, enjoyable blur, but one most likely to click with those for whom Lubelski's understated approach has inherent appeal. These songs don't sell themselves, and their subtlety makes them naturally narrow.
Lubelski actually has made a few gems in the past that sounded like they could find a broader spotlight-- take the horn-laden "Sister Silver" from 2005's Spectacular of Passages, or the catchy organ of "The Cloistered Palace" from 2007's Parallel Suns. But even those tunes had a personal, voice-in-head feel, which ultimately distinguishes anything Lubelski does. I'd rather hear her play with shadows than light anyway, and on Wavelength she's still happily tucked into her own shrouded corner, making music that works because she's the one who made it.
