by Sebastián Gorla
The punk scene in Vancouver at the turn of the last decade must’ve been an exciting place to be. There was a flagship band that had been plucked from the mix and catapulted into stardom. That band was White Lung, who rode the runaway success of 2012’s Sorry all the way to an international career. In that sense, what could’ve been characterized as the scene’s sound was attributed to them. Who’s to say? Lié’s approach on 2014’s Consent contained more than a few tricks White Lung had pulled two years earlier: the sharp tremolo riffs and Ashlee Luk’s furious, gothic baritone to note a few. This isn’t a criticism, this type of stylistic cross-pollination is often what makes a scene a scene. I’d say Consent is Lié’s second best album. Their best? 2020’s You Want it Real.
Lié’s You Want it Real is the sound of a band coming into their own and all the fury and creativity that implies. Some elements have been refined, and others have been redefined. The rhythm section has never sounded tighter, at times manic and hyperactive, at others like cruel rolling thunder. The lyrics have eschewed the simple sloganeering of punk for a more abstract, narrative approach. Carried by that same snarling baritone, Luk’s words succeed in the acrobatic act of being confrontational while remaining open to personal interpretation.
The whole thing kicks off with “Digging in the Desert,” whose driving deathrock baseline keeps the song tumbling, spinning around the white-hot pinprick guitar lines. Here we’re introduced to one of the album’s recurring motifs: noisy, abstract breakdowns, mounting pressure before exploding into the chorus. It’s an adrenaline-pumping trick that keeps the album feeling varied at a trim 21-minute runtime.
You can chalk up the eccentricities in their songwriting to Luk’s and bassist Brittany West’s second lives as acid/rave/techno producers Minimal Violence and Sigsaly. Their focus on rhythm and tempo keep you on your feet throughout You Want it Real, easily cramming three or four distinct sections in songs that rarely exceed two and a half minutes.
“You Got It” best demonstrates the rhythm section’s newfound decisiveness. The tempo immediately kicks it up a gear, as the bass and the drums lock together, loading and reloading, firing off into furious hardcore stretches before crashing down into a post-punk dirge. “Fantasy of Destructive Force” features a shuffling, stop-start drumbeat encompassed by the swirling distortion of the bass’ melodic assault. Luk’s vocals cut through the malaise, vampiric in their description of different scenes, part fuel to her fury, part cautionary tale.
I’d encourage listeners to really hone in on the lyrical content of the album. The moments described are sometimes concrete, but often seem to deconstruct themselves, favoring imagery and emotionality. For all its inventiveness and nerve, You Want it Real is the kind of album that begs for careful revisits.