Lanterns On The Lake – Versions Of Us

Indie Rock

92%

 

Every so often we come across a piece of art that we welcome into our heart so unreservedly that it becomes a part of us. Maybe it arrived at just the right time for its message to resonate with you, maybe it gradually becomes a nostalgic link back to memories of a particular period in your life, or maybe it’s just a truly transcendent work that was always gonna move you in some way or another. I think the last piece of media I formed such a bond with was the marvelous multiversal absurdity of Everything Everywhere All At Once. Right from the first viewing, and in every viewing since, I’ve felt enraptured by it. Not only because it tackled so many different genres and nailed them all, but because part of me felt understood by it. As someone who occasionally finds a kind of strange comfort in being an insignificant speck in a vast universe, the film’s themes around making your own meaning in an infinite meaningless multiverse really struck a chord with me. 

Let’s come back down to Earth for a moment. In this reality, Lanterns On The Lake’s 2015 album Beings is another such work of art that has begun to feel like a part of me. It was among the first albums I reviewed in the early days of Belwood, one of the first blog discoveries that I fell in love with, and as such it holds a special place in my heart. I was taken by the beauty and the darkness found in its grand yet hazy atmosphere, and all these years later hardly a day goes by when I don’t listen to at least one track from it. However, putting any work of art on a pedestal like that will inevitably lead to you looking at it through rose-tinted glasses. The personal connection makes it difficult to be objective, and it can be hard for something new to live up to the high standard you’ve subconsciously set. So please bear that in mind when I say, without hesitation, that Versions Of Us is the band’s opus. 

This record sees so many aspects of Lanterns’ sound and songwriting finely tuned in small subtle ways, that nonetheless all add up to feel like a big creative leap, and you can hear the difference right from the first track ‘The Likes Of Us’. The sweeping atmospheric walls of sound that I’ve come to associate with the band, while very much still present, here exist alongside fine intricate details without obfuscating them. You can hear the detailed drum work of Radiohead’s Philip Selway, bright piano notes and soaring guitar riffs, and Angela Chan’s resplendent strings, all piercing through a post-rock haze. Beings, and 2020’s Mercury nominated Spook The Herd, felt like a quiet nightscape caged in dense fog, with only the soft glow of the next streetlight to assure you that there’s something more out there. Versions Of Us feels like the last remnants of the night’s fog caught in the morning light; you can clearly make out the landmarks of the surrounding countryside, but the fine veil of mist adorning them adds a sense of mystery and other-worldliness. 

‘Real Life’ delivers one of the band’s most energetic and uplifting offerings, reminding me a little of ‘Through The Cellar Door’, and is one of the clearest examples of Hazel Wilde’s usual gossamer vocals dipping in to a newfound well of drive and passion. ‘Thumb Of War’ is home to some wonderfully expressive bass lines, ‘Vatican’ and ‘The Saboteur’ play with a lilting reverb that borders on surf rock, while closing track ‘Last Transmission’ shows great light and shade between the austere piano arrangement and its dark chaotic climax. Really though, it’s ‘String Theory’ that stands out as the album’s keystone, and as its biggest highlight. At its heart Versions is a break-up album, and it’s on this track that the central running theme is laid bare; somewhere out there is a universe where everything turned out the way you hoped it would.

While the album is home to more conventional expressions of loss and heartache (“Once we were an empire you and I, but where love once reigned it’s all locust skies” on ‘Locust’), for the most part there is a hopeful undercurrent at work. Finding solace in the fact that in another life it all worked out, that maybe it wasn’t all preordained, and there’s a version of you out there that knew better than to make the same mistakes. Occasionally the hope burns even brighter, reflecting on how, if there’s an infinite multiverse out there, maybe this life can become whatever you choose to make it (“I’m going to ride like a knight in the saddle of life, No more watching from the cheap seats, All that I’ve fantasised will be colourised, When my real life starts” on ‘Real Life’). I’m a sucker for inventive songwriting, and this has it in spades. There’s a million break-up albums out there, but this unique framing of how to cope with heartbreak and regret makes for such a refreshing and memorable record. 

Given the departure of drummer Oli Ketteringham, and the fact that the band essentially scrapped the album and started again from scratch, this might be one of a handful of realities where we’re able to experience Versions Of Us in this shape and form. While there’s much I’d change about the world around me, that’s one thing I’m certainly thankful for. Do I love this album because the multiversal message resonated with me, because of a lingering love for past records, or because it’s simply an extraordinary example of a band operating at their very best? Yes to all three. If there truly are many different alternate worlds out there, I can only hope there’s at least one where Lanterns On The Lake receive the acclaim they so richly deserve.