Album Review: Lydsyn, Lydsyn
Posted in Reviews on October 7th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
Life can take you to some unexpected places, but if you’re Uffe Lorenzen, a lot of them might be garage rock. The king of Danish garage psych, best known for his work under the nom de plume Lorenzo Woodrose, has spent the last five years developing his solo aesthetic, putting out three full-lengths in 2020’s Magisk Realisme (review here), 2019’s Triprapport (review here) and 2017’s Galmandsværk (review here), departing from where he left his main outfit Baby Woodrose behind with 2016’s Freedom (review here) as though to search out precisely that; to find some kind of freedom that perhaps being Lorenzo Woodrose was not at the time providing.
Lydsyn is very specifically not a return to Baby Woodrose, and those who approach it knowing Lorenzen‘s output either on his own or with that band shouldn’t be expecting one. Heralded by the early singles “Kat Ser Kat” (posted here) and “To Syge Skud” (posted here), Lydsyn‘s self-titled debut album is a return to form for Lorenzen in that he’s fronting a trio — Palle Demant on bass and Jens Eyde on drums — but the end result sounds more like a rock-band-extension of his solo work because… wait for it… that’s exactly what it is.
The narrative (blessings and peace upon it) holds that Lorenzen, Demant and Eyde were assembled as a live act to bring Lorenzen‘s solo material to the stage. There were tour dates booked when the pandemic hit and writing became the outlet for what-the-hell-else-to-do restlessness, and Lydsyn — with production by the esteemed Flemming Rasmussen at Sweet Silence in Copenhagen — arrives as the result of those sessions. For those who’ve tracked Lorenzen through the years in On Trial, Baby Woodrose, Dragontears, and Spids Nøgenhat, the latter of whom are an important touchstone here as regards Lydsyn digging into a classic rock sound born specifically of Denmark’s own history therein.
“Hymne Til Kroppen” is a cover of funky late-’70s curios Splask, and there are revivalist elements at work across Lydsyn from the opening guitar lines of “Jericho” through the atmospheric heavy blues of closer “Bålet,” also the longest track at 6:41 and a moment in which the impact of the power trio is at its most vital (not the only one, mind you), with Demant‘s bass and Eyde‘s crash backing Lorenzen‘s madman-in-tears vocals amid rattlesnake shakers and a steady march that holds even as they shift into and out of a freaked-out, noisy solo after four minutes in.
Though it sounds casual, and there’s no pretense of being anything other than it is as a showcase of songwriting and craft — seven out of the nine included songs start with guitar; they know the kind of impression they’re trying to make — the record is anything but careless, with ’60s detailing of organ in “Tragisk Eskapisme” and a start-stop strut in the earlier “Døde Stamgæster” that is both comfortable in its pace and classic in form despite the only-modern breadth of the actual recording. That is, Lydsyn are informed by the era, not trying to sound like it.
While “To Syge Skud,” which is based around acoustic guitar with electric layered in, is probably the most reminiscent of Lorenzen‘s solo output, even that connection is partial and the song is built out with backing vocals and a fuzzy lead before its 2:44 are done, taking the howling garage jangle of “Jericho” and the thicker fuzz of “Døde Stamgæster” to a more serene place ahead of “Kat Ser Kat,” the strum of which sounds well in anticipation of “Bålet” later on without actually doing the same thing. Each of these first four songs offers something different from the rest that surround it and “Hymne Til Kroppen,” which finishes off side A of the 38-minute LP, follows suit, with a funky underpinning for its fuzz-on tension release, Lorenzen‘s vocals easy-riding that groove and matching his own lead guitar note for note in righteous fashion.
The two solo sections — rippers, both — give an opportunity to make the most of Lydsyn as a power trio, with the rhythm section holding the central motion of the song while the guitar momentarily loses its shit, and they don’t miss that chance, remaining cohesive as they’d almost have to given who they are despite the off-the-rails vibe and heavy payoff of the song. That pickup of energy bleeds into side B as “Abernes Planet” begins with a clarity of strum not entirely dissimilar from “Jericho,” but a more winding verse and chorus/bridge. Demant‘s bass, which, again, will lead the way to the album’s end, makes “Abernes Planet” a highlight with its natural tonal warmth; the track barely touches three minutes long, and not a second is wasted.
Tambourine, the aforementioned organ, and what sounds like acoustic strum alongside the electric make “Tragisk Eskapisme” feel particularly full, but not overly so. Like the rest of what surrounds, it is in balance as its six-minute course fleshed out by a momentary veer into psychedelia leads to the similarly arranged but more pointed “Tårnet” and the finale’s lower turn, but there’s a point — right around “To Syge Skud,” if not sooner — where you realize you’re in good hands and just kind of let it roll, and that’s really how Lydsyn‘s Lydsyn is best heard. With trust.
Maybe you’ve never heard a band Uffe Lorenzen has played in. Maybe you don’t have a museum-grade certification in Danish rock history. Maybe you don’t speak the language. That’s fine. Me neither. The fact is that even for the previously unindoctrinated, the songs are nothing if not listenable, smoothly made with expert and experienced care, and even if you don’t go into Lydsyn with some vague idea of what’s coming, they earn that trust all over again on their own as a kind of mostly-mellow but immersive and at times scorching garage-informed heavy rock record.
It wasn’t the way they planned it, maybe, since they reportedly didn’t plan on being a band separate from Lorenzen‘s solo incarnation, but there’s life here and if Lydsyn is going to be an outlet for Lorenzen to explore these kinds of ideas in the absence of Baby Woodrose or other projects, he makes himself right at home in the material. He makes the listener right at home too.
