Luvcat – Vicious Delicious

Gothic Pop | Alternative Pop

90%

 

Stage presence is a spectrum that stretches from mythology to intimacy. On the one extreme you have a larger than life persona, a costumed character made for the stage, so all consuming that you can only guess at the real person beneath it all. Think of the regal aloofness of Prince, Bowie’s revolving cast of alter egos, or more recently the flamboyant drag theatrics of Chappell Roan. At the other end of the scale, what you see is what you get. This is first and foremost the realm of the singer/songwriter. Lyrics as frank and revealing as a diary entry, a level of vulnerability that can make a packed out crowd feel cosy and intimate. I think there’s a lot of interesting potential to be found in shifting from one end of the spectrum to the other. I can recall a few instances where superstars have dropped their façade, and embraced a sound that’s more raw and honest to great effect, but it feels rarer to see an artist move in the other direction effectively. 

Having followed Sophie Morgan‘s career long before she adopted her Luvcat alter ego, her journey from quiet, tender folk balladry to sultry and sinister cabaret has been fascinating to witness. On paper you’d expect an abrupt move away from a more “authentic” singer/songwriter sound, towards something so steeped in glamour and an exaggerated sense of style, to come across as shallow and disingenuous. In practice this new persona fits her as snugly as a silk glove, to the point where Luvcat feels like it’s always been her true self. The transformation is so complete and effortless, like Keyser Soze changing mid stride, that it actually adds to the mystique.  

Vicious Delicious fully immerses you into a world of lipstick, lace and leopard print. It whisks you away to some hedonistic speakeasy, where blooms of cigarette smoke swirl in the air, with décor the same rich shade of burgundy as the wine they serve, and a beguiling temptress on centre stage pulling your thoughts away from whatever dark secret lies behind the velvet curtains. Right from the bewitching opening bass line of ‘Lipstick’, the atmosphere on this record is thick enough to cut with a knife. The lush soundscapes of ‘Alien’ evoke Wolf Alice at their dreamiest, building to the climactic calls of “beam me up” which feels like a moment right out of Phoebe Bridger’s Punisher. The heady synths and sumptuous bass work on ‘Love & Money’ captures how it feels to be positively drunk on desire itself, as the lyrics tease a night of salacious mischief. ‘Spider’ and ‘Laurie’ both boast gorgeous, slow-burning orchestral swells, while the earworm arrangement on ‘Blushing’ finds a middle ground between Luvcat’s luxurious cabaret and some wistful, nostalgia-inducing John Hughes soundtrack. 

The beating heart of this record however, lies in its macabre romanticism. A dark and twisted longing that fuels the deeper drama at play beneath the more playful theatricality at the surface. ‘Lipstick’ is all about a desire to please, the title track a cautionary tale about falling for some handsome rake who leaves a trail of broken hearts in his wake, while Luvcat’s sublime signature song ‘Matador‘ details that heartache that follows a love wasted on someone you’re unable to change for the better. Yet the real secret sauce is in the moments that take the power back and indulge in the dark side. The sinister murder ballad ‘He’s My Man‘ weaves the wicked tale of a bored housewife poisoning her husband, while the bombastic stomp of ‘Dinner @ Brasserie Zédel’ plays like Jolene’s obsessive evil twin having one last candlelit meal with her latest victim. Much of the record feels like the disjointed tale of a seductive serial killer’s slow descent into madness – the perfect vehicle for this kind of twisted gothic glamour if you ask me. 

I had two concerns heading into Vicious Delicious. The first was how well the new material would stand up against the already released singles that I’ve come to know and love so well. Not only did some of the tracks I’d not yet heard come to be some of my highlights, but they all fit together as a more cohesive, stylistic whole than I’d anticipated. My second concern was that the album would end up having too much of a good thing; that the murderous Moulin Rouge vibe would run out of steam, or outstay its welcome. If anything, I wish it had been even more indulgent. With more moments like the show-stopping finale ‘Bad Books’. Equal parts menacing and rambunctious, like something you’d hear drifting from a haunted speakeasy in a Tim Burton movie, it manages to plumb new depths of vaudevillian excess. I absolutely adore how much Luvcat commits to the theatricality on this record. The aesthetic is so enticing and intoxicating, and delivered with such unhinged conviction, that you can’t help but be drawn in by it. I’m not ready to leave this world she’s created just yet – pour me another round, I’ll be staying a while longer.