sondre lerche album free download King Of Letting Go. For nearly two decades, Los Angeles-based Norwegian singer/songwriter has established a consistent knack for an ear-catching and eclectic blend of jazz-influenced indie pop, married effusively to thoughtful, intriguing lyrics. And yet with 2014's Please , his marked sincerity was further explored through the emotional fallout of a divorce. But sparse, confessional-style lyricism alone has never held much water to Lerche, and Please instead explored that turbulence through groove-centric jams crafted for dance floors. This proved to be a winning formula, and Pleasure , its 2017 follow-up, plunged even deeper into danceability, inspired by forays into electronic music. On Patience , his ninth studio album, Lerche pursues another unexpected inspiration: ambient music. It was his sudden interest in running, spawned by efforts to be in shape for the intense physical exertion of his 140-show Pleasure world tour, that led to Lerche's deeper exploration of ambient music and minimalism. "Running somehow became synonymous with exploring all this beautiful, liberating music that was so exotic to get lost in. I called it patient music.” After months of touring and training, Lerche ran the New York City Marathon that fall, soundtracked by an eclectic playlist of William Basinski, The Field, and Steve Reich. "I completely broke my body, but I was hooked. The combination of ambient and running somehow just made sense to me. It played a great part in why I moved to LA”. Since New York he has run three subsequent marathons, the last one in Chicago, where he set a new personal record fueled by Japanese experimental composer Haruomi Hosono and British collage-artist The Caretaker. Lerche was training for a fifth marathon, in Dü sseldorf this April, when the COVID-19 pandemic broke loose and all plans changed. Patience has indeed since proven to be an all too timely mantra for the times we find ourselves in. Outside of the Laurie Anderson-influenced title track, which sees the return of Lerche's hyped up sensual crooner persona from Pleasure, the effects of Lerche's ambient infatuation might not be readily apparent in the album's composition at first. But much of their lessons factored not only in how Lerche approached the record, but also informed his decision to leave Brooklyn, his home since 2005, in favor of Los Angeles, in the midst of the album's production. Where opener “Patience” gives insight into Lerche's artistic process, the bouncy Brill Building-pop of "You Are Not Who I Thought I Was" finds Lerche providing an unflinching self-examination of what a touring artist's life is like, both from the point of view of the artist and the ones they're close with. Lerche argues that there really is no separating the art from the artist and the very human needs of all involved, and errs on the side of balance. Since his auspicious debut in 2001, Lerche's toured significantly and chased his muse wherever it has taken him - from the lounge-y baroque pop of both his debut and Two Way Monologue, to the punchy rebelliousness of Phantom Punch, Lerche's albums always seem rooted in a desire to explore some musical fixation or personal growth. And through it all Lerche has cultivated a strong pervasive harmonic language - an insistence on distinctive chord structures that, though a cornerstone in a genre like jazz or bossanova, have been almost alien in the offerings of most mainstream pop. And yet, at this moment, alongside artists as diverse as Weyes Blood, Tame Impala and King Krule, Lerche’s particular blend of influences feels more timely than ever. "As much as I continue being inspired by the great American songwriters of the jazz age, my harmonic DNA feels Brazilian more than anything. There are so many phenomenal Brazilian songwriters, from Jobim to Tropicália and beyond”, he says, referring to the movement that developed under the militant dictatorship of the late 60s. “I've always felt that at least half my songs are really just Brazilian pop songs underneath it all. And I’m so happy whenever I hear those harmonies in contemporary music, whether it's Tyler, The Creator or Dirty Projectors.”

Lerche's affinity for MPB (mùsica popular brasileira) is perhaps most explicitly notable in the Chico Buarque-inspired "Why Did I Write The Book of Love”, which follows the Tropicàlia tradition of mixing subjects of love and political commentary. Here Lerche argues it's going to take a lot more than love to fix a mounting number of issues: "So why are we not enough to save the world, to save ourselves?" Lerche asks casually, but it's a clearly pointed critique of himself and others like him. Patience also reveals Lerche’s love for 60s-70s singer/songwriters like Judee Sill and Joni Mitchell, leading Lerche towards feats of timeless production, like the Harry Nilsson-reminiscent "I Can't See Myself Without You", an effervescent love song that harkens back to Lerche's Duper Sessions and Dan In Real Life soundtrack in its unabashed adoration, with just the right amount of his present-day self accountability. While deeply inspired by the events of his own personal life, Lerche's tendency has always been to pull focus back, striving to give a sense of universal appeal and emotional resonance, and Patience is no different. Or, as he reminds himself in the title track: “We can only take so much, but some have to take so much more”. The Arthur Russell-echoing “That's All There Is", inspired by the sudden passing of a close friend and collaborator, ponders our lives and the lives of our loved ones as a stream of beautiful images and recollections. Sparsely tender album closer "My Love Is Hard To Explain”, written after returning to New York after the expansive and exhausting Pleasure tour, sees Lerche magnifying the concept of love and relegating it to the cosmos. He posits that even though there are technical ways to describe almost anything, the purest, truest things in the Universe are the hardest to qualify or accurately describe without robbing them of their potency. With Patience , Lerche continues fruitful collaborations with his core band; New Jersey-based drummer/ percussionist Dave Heilman, bassist Chris Holm, keyboardist Alexander von Mehren, and producers Kato Å dland and Matias Tellez (of Young Dreams), all -based. The album also reunites Lerche with mixing engineer Jørgen Træen (Faces Down, Two Way Monologue, Duper Sessions), and world- renowned Philip Glass- violinist Tim Fain (Please), as well as introducing an unexpected but winning team-up with legendary lyricist/composer Van Dyke Parks, who has worked with everyone from and Randy Newman to, more recently, Joanna Newsom, Rufus Wainwright and Skrillex. The sweeping Parks-arranged chamber pop ballad "Put the Camera Down", is very much the narrative foil to "That's All There Is”, as Lerche argues with the ability to capture everything at your fingertips. Sometimes it is, in fact, preferable to just experience the moment you're in, warts and all. Patience 's centerpiece, "Why Would I Let You Go?” is unusually and intensely personal for Lerche. The result of a hermetic all-night writing session in his Brooklyn apartment, the song paved the may for what Lerche describes as the album’s songs of “radical sincerity”. It took perhaps the longest journey from its creation towards finding its place on the record, while also signifying the definitive moment Lerche realized the thematic difference in Pleasure and Patience 's narratives. Devastatingly powerful in its heartfelt reverence and fragile insecurity, "Why Would I Let You Go?" functions as an excellent benchmark for the emotional journey of Lerche's unofficial trilogy, and highlights Patience as an album rooted in acceptance and finding peace. A feeling further enhanced by the cinematic “I Love You Because It’s True’, the first song Lerche wrote after settling into his newfound bungalow-life in Hollywood. If Pleasure reveled in giving yourself up to the here and now, so too does Patience. Swapping out hedonistic pursuits as distraction from existential ennui and the fear of being known, Patience finds Lerche fully willing to surrender to the mounting tide of introspective inquiry. Lerche allows Patience to be an album of contradictions, where dueling thoughts and feelings coexist and are weighed with equal measure. Even as he ruminates on life's big moments and even bigger questions, Lerche is optimistic, full of love and empathy, self-critical and self-aware. It’s a delicate tightrope to traverse, but Lerche does so with an almost effortless grace and a bit of humor. For Lerche, Patience isn't just a record, it's a mantra for how he hopes to live his life: present, focused, and resisting the urge to rush when it feels like time is slipping away. PATIENCE / Sondre Lerche. Så langt i 2020 har Sondre Lerche sluppet en kritikerrost essay-samling, omfavnet begge ender av karantenetilvœrelsen med hyllede konserter alene i bå de stue og mausoleum, samt i Store Studio sammen med Kringkastingsorkesteret. Etter en oppsiktsvekkende sterk perlerad singler er tiden endelig moden for hans mest gripende og komplette verk, albumet Patience. Tå lmodighet har lenge vært Sondre Lerches hemmelige vå pen. Men de seneste må nedene har han, kanskje mer enn noen annen norsk artist, møtt de mange korona-utfordringene og avlysningene med bå de handlingskraft og oppfinnsomhet. “ Jeg har alltid vært tå lmodig med sangene mine, og de jeg er glad i. Men nå r jeg vet hvor jeg skal, har jeg vanskelig for å nøle. Heldigvis liker jeg å improvisere, ” forteller Sondre. Innspillingen av det som skulle bli «Patience» begynte for over syv å r siden. Da platen midtveis i prosessen fikk et navn, kom det fra Sondres egen beskrivelse av musikken han da hovedsakelig søkte mot. Han kalte det patient music — tå lmodig musikk. Lerche kunne naturligvis ikke ane akkurat hvor treffende og profetisk «Patience», og søken etter en viss sinnsro i kaotiske tider, skulle vise seg å bli vå ren 2020. Det var uaktuelt å utsette utgivelsen ytterligere, og etterhvert som det ble klart at bå de Øya, Bergenfest og andre arrangement han og bandet skulle opptre på gjennom sommeren ville bli avlyst, har Sondre selv tatt grep for å sørge for at musikken ikke stopper opp nå r vi alle trenger den mest. Han var en av de første artistene som strømmet konsert fra sofakroken gjennom Brakkesyke — en konsert nesten 80.000 mennesker var innom, og som samlet inn 150.000 kroner til Leger Uten Grenser. Like etter filmet han likeså godt en elegant karriere-oppsummerende konsert med Kringkastingsorkesteret i NRKs Store Studio.

Og for bare få uker siden, da Helsedirektoratet å pnet for mindre samlinger av folk — med én meters avstand — var han rask med å gripe sjansen til å endelig spille for mennesker igjen. Alene i Oslos Emanuel Vigelands Mausoleum, foran tjue publikummere om gangen fremførte Sondre blant annet sin kanskje mest skjellsettende komposisjon, «Patience»-nøkkellå ten «Why Would I Let You Go» i samspill med mausoleets atten sekunder lange, naturlige klang. Resultatet ble flere terningkast seks-anmeldelser, og syv rystende vakre, utsolgte konserter som fremkalte det eksistensielle suset Lerche dykker ned i på «Patience» med lå ter som «Are We Alone Now» og «Why Did I Write The Book Of Love». “ En mer nyskapende norsk pop-produksjon er det lenge siden traff denne platespilleren ”, sa Morgenbladets Ando Woltmann om Lerches forrige album, «Pleasure». Og selv om tilstanden på «Patience» kanskje oppleves mindre frenetisk og mer meditativ denne gang, kanaliserer Sondre også her rastløsheten og nysgjerrigheten som har preget trilogien som startet med dobbelt Spellemannominerte “Please” i 2014. Med «Patience» utvider horisonten seg — kanskje inspirert av denne stadig økende begeistringen for ambient og minimalistisk musikk. Likevel inneholder «Patience» noen av Sondres mest skamløst fengende og varierte poplå ter noensinne, blant annet singlene «You Are Not Who I Thought I Was», «That’s All There Is» og «I Can’t See Myself Without You». Nå som platen er ferdig er opphavsmannen selv noe forbauset: “ At «Patience» skulle vise seg å være en samling selvmotsigelser var kanskje ikke det jeg så for meg ”. Ved første gjennomlytt av testpressen (albumet slippes også på gjennomsiktig vinyl) gikk det nemlig brå tt opp for han at hver eneste lå t nærmest konsekvent motsa seg budskapet i den forrige. “ Jeg er jo den eneste som har det overordnede blikket i prosessen, men det hender likevel at jeg er den siste som helt skjønner tegningen. ” Tekstmessig skriver Sondre bedre og mer presist enn noen gang — med eksplisitt oppriktighet og snert som å pner nye rom for bå de selvransakelse, tvil og så rbarhet. Og, som alltid, i utsøkt bevegelse med salige melodier og akkordrekker som virker stadig mer inspirert av bå de den store amerikanske, så vel som den brasilianske, sangboken. Den uavhengige amerikanske musikknettsiden Bandcamps redaktører har allerede beskrevet «Patience» som “ packed full of big hooks, bigger feelings, and instrumentation more minimalist than baroque. ” «Patience» er resultatet av et behov for å bevege seg mindre. Ja, kanskje ikke i det hele tatt. Da Sondre returnerte hjem igjen til vinterkalde Brooklyn etter 140 svette «Pleasure»-konserter fra Å l til Rio, snudde han i døren og bestemte seg for å flytte til Los Angeles. Han fant seg raskt til rette i en eldgammel bungalow midt i Hollywood og tømte reisekalenderen for første gang siden debuten med «Faces Down» i 2001. I perioden som fulgte komponerte og produserte han sanger til NRK Supers Fantorangen, og et hemmelig amerikansk filmprosjekt. Han skrev den kritikerroste essaysamlingen «Alle sanger handler om deg», som utkom tidligere i å r på Flamme forlag, og ble hektet på å løpe, aller helst maraton. Men aller mest intenst var arbeidet med å dra «Patience» i land. Det turneløse, løpende livet i solen ga mersmak, og etterhvert som ferdigstillelsen av «Patience» tok stadig mer tid, fikk scenedyret Sondre Lerche midlertidig utløp gjennom stadige opptredener på klubben Largo i West Hollywood, der helter som Elliott Smith og Fiona Apple har opptrå dt mye. Her ble han vertskap for sitt eget show med gjester som Jon Brion, Sean & Sara Watkins, Mike Birbiglia og Whitmer Thomas, samtidig som han selv dukket opp i showene til komikere som Sarah Silverman, Judd Apatow, Zach Galifianakis, Bob Odenkirk og David Cross. Det var også her Sondre for første gang testet ut mange av sangene som nå utgjør «Patience». Og likevel er «Patience» i all hovedsak spilt inn i Bergen med Sondres etterhvert faste musikere Alexander von Mehren (tangenter), Chris Holm (bass) og Dave Heilman (trommer), og i samarbeid med produsentene Matias Tellez og Kato Å dland, på hver sin kant av byen. Men «Patience» inneholder også nye samarbeid. Strykearrangementet til lå ten «Put The Camera Down», av legenden Van Dyke Parks (som Lerche skriver om i sin essaysamling) ble spilt inn i New York, allerede i 2014. Saksofonistene Hanna Paulsberg og Kjetil Møster bidrar også , sammen med medlemmer fra Broen (vokalist Marianna Sangita, og pianist Anja Lauvdal, som Lerche først samarbeidet med i anledning Joni Mitchell-hyllesten i Operaen på Jazzfestival i 2018). Strykerne på «Why Would I Let You Go» er ved fiolinist Tim Fain, som Sondre møtte da de begge spilte konsert med Philip Glass i 2013. Denne og flere andre sanger er mikset av Jørgen Træen, som i sin tid produserte bå de «Faces Down», «Two Way Monologue» og «Duper Sessions». Kanskje er bå de trilogien og ringen med dette sluttet? «Patience» er uansett den mest komplette oppsummeringen av Norges mest allsidige og vitale popkunstner. Og på bå de godt og vondt virker samtiden nå moden for musikalsk lindring i form av Sondre Lerches musikalske safe-space, «Patience». Two Way Monologue Lyrics. Ma! If it's worth the made up smiles, the quiet fights Oh mother! It is hard not to look in the mirror's eye I have come to this while you have come along So it's alright if you change your mind the other way around again I shouldn't have to spell my name. So start the two way monologues that speak your mind We're talking two way monologues with words that rhyme. We can't reclaim the shirts we threw away last twirl Uncurl the note-in-pocket, personal brochures that dust. Machine-washed, that's how paper rusts. Days you spend wanting some of Michael Landon's grace strike back, now they shape your life as stony as his face Oh no! I shouldn't have to spell his name. So start the two way monologues that speak your mind Start the two way monologues with words that rhyme Start the two way monologues that speak your mind We're talking two way monologues. We were chasing rabbits on the hill And that prairie-life was great, but never real `Cause we never saw no rabbits out there, ever, no, not once All we did was put a fire up and watch it burn for months And I miss the sound of stairs and walls and maladjusted doors and too little space for holding all the soldiers and the war. Two Way Monologue. Sondre Lerche's first album, Faces Down, was bursting with promise. Two Way Monologue fulfills that promise and then some. Right from the beginning of the first song ("Love You" (a brief instrumental that hints at things to come with a sunbursting string arrangement and beautiful chords stacked together like bunches of flowers), it is clear that Lerche has lost some of the tentativeness that made his debut flawed and has blossomed into a pop craftsman of the highest regard. The songs on Two Way Monologue are lyrically mature and sophisticated; the sound of the album is full and arranged perfectly, Lerche effortlessly twists his vocal into falsetto swoops and intimate whispers, and almost every song is worthy of starring on a mix CD made to impress your friends. Songs like the complex "Track You Down" and "Wet Ground" point to a new level of sophistication both in the songwriting and the performance. "Two Way Monologue" is a perfect distillation of Lerche's style and is probably his best song. Starting as an acoustic ballad that shifts into a rollicking pop tune and then into an Astral Weeks-ish ballad and back, it really is an amazing song. Lyrically it is a touch inscrutable, but that is part of his charm as well. What this record has that his debut didn't are the surprises that pop up at regular intervals and add richness to the arrangements: the honking sax on the wonderful "Two Way Monologue," the Beach Boys vocal harmonies throughout, the bongos on "Days That Are Over," the snaky pedal steel on the achingly beautiful "Stupid Memory." This is a record made by people who have a firm grasp on how to construct an album, from Sean O'Hagan and Marcus Holdaway's tasteful string arrangements to HP Gundersen, Andy Robinson, and Jorgen Træen's arrangements to Lerche's stellar production, there is not a weak moment on the album. In fact, if you hear a pop record with better songs, performances, or arrangements in 2004 than Two Way Monologue, then it will have been a great year for music. The record may get lost in the shuffle and noise of the music biz, but if you manage to find it, cherish it, because it is a gold record, sales figures be damned. Sondre Lerche Two Way Monologue. Bands create those certain albums that certainly come across as being fantastic albums, but really only fit a certain mood. Radiohead’s Hail to the Thief certainly comes to mind as fitting this description. Many albums serve only as relaxing music, nothing too complicated or anything too musically intricate, such as Eluvium’s Talk Amongst the Trees. Sondre Lerche’s Two Way Monologue is a different kind of mood music. Unlike the previous albums mentioned, Two Way Monologue fits many moods. A happy mood causes Lerche’s Beatle-esque melodies to stand out, while a state of depression causes Lerche’s sad, reflective love stories to feed off the sad emotions. Sondre Lerche is a singer/songwriter from . He started playing guitar and singing at a very young age, penning his first song and playing acoustic gigs at age 14. At age 21, he released his second effort, Two Way Monologue. Even with his debut album, Sondre found immediate critical acclaim and a steadily growing fan base. Rolling Stone named his Faces Down album one of the top 50 albums of 2002. Two Way Monologue shows an equal influence from , The Beach Boys, and Sufjan Stevens. While primarily a typical guitar wielding singer- songwriter, Two Way Monologue throws in all sorts of different instruments including string sections, synthesizers, and piano, obviously influenced by the grandiose arranging of Sufjan Stevens. With all the different instrumentation, excellent harmonies and sweeping atmosphere draw an obvious influence and similarity to some of the greatest pop artists of all time. The backup vocals of Wet Ground sound straight out of The Beach Boys while the musical background sounds more Beatle-esque, certainly the California pop rock of the Beach Boys. However, other songs such as Stupid Memory throw out obvious folk references, featuring a banjo. Even further down the genre path, It’s Too Late features some incredibly jazzy guitar later to be explored on his jazz album the Duper Sessions. Of course, as with most singer-songwriters, Sondre really is the focus of the album, using all the other instruments simply as ambiance and atmosphere. His singing voice is superb for what the genre calls for, which really isn’t much. His soothing falsetto highlights his tenor voice. Although having an obvious native language of Norwegian, Sondre sings with no noticeable accent. He shows a few flaws in the language, composing a few awkward lines here and there, but he certainly shows a great proficiency of the English language. Whether intended or not, his sentence structure of some lines create an originality and catchiness about him. Despite his unique (whether that be good or bad) lines, his main messages come across quite easily. Most of his lyrics refer to a fallen relationship and the aftermath, such as trying to forget memories in Stupid Memory as well as finding an optimistic view and dreaming of getting back together in the ironically titled It’s Over . Maybe it’s his relaxing tone quality, but the entire album seems to draw an overall message of “oh well, life goes on.” Sondre sighs out the closing line of the entire album, “Maybe you’re gone,” and sends off the exact message of “oh well.” On Maybe You’re Gone , a lush wind section takes the album out, drawing from the sound of a beautiful brass quintet to the sound of French accordion. With all this, Two Way Monologue is certainly an easy listen all the way through. Sondre’s voice never tires, especially with that relaxing tone quality he possesses. The variety on the album certainly aims to please as well, ranging from folk to indie pop to laid back jazzy lounge rock. Sondre writes in each style with originality and flair, never showing a weakness in anything, probably from his years upon years of guitar instruction and exposure to many different styles. With so many different sounds, the possibilites for this young man are immense, as he recently traveled down the jazz path and formed the Faces Down quartet to accompany him on his travels. The turn of 2007 sees the release of Phantom Punch, a much more rock-oriented album which draws a lot of hype from his constantly increasing fan base. Two Way Monologue is certainly worth picking up for fans of laid-back, fun, and poppy music. Norway continues to amaze with its music scene, putting out Sondre Lerche as one of its star acts. Recommended Tracks : Track You Down Two Way Monologue It’s Over Stupid Memory Maybe You’re Gone. Two Way Monologue. There was no front: For the first half-minute of "Don't Be Shallow", Lerche was missing notes, singing out of . There was no front: For the first half-minute of "Don't Be Shallow", Lerche was missing notes, singing out of key, just a complete mess. The crowd-- late twenty-somethings mostly there to see headliner Nada Surf play that one song they do-- was at a loss, too, caught between rants of insobriety and deep Langley School-ish sympathies: Lerche is young and clearly nervous, and I probably should stop being an asshole and maybe try being kind and supportive. Slowly everything clicked though, and Lerche commanded a degree of vocal control and rubato that rivaled Ted Leo solo performances. And now the crowd was at a complete loss. Lerche's kitschy youth appeal had earned their sympathy, yet now they actually liked what he was playing. "It might be the most laidback album of lush pop I've ever heard." --Rob Mitchum on Lerche's debut LP, Faces Down. It's true, and perhaps Faces Down was unoffensive to a fault. Lerche's songs were a bit, as Mitchum went on to say, "EZ-indie." Lerche knows the right buttons to push when he wants to charm us, which is great, but perhaps not as impressive or interesting if we discern the mechanism behind the charm: subconsciously, we are not in awe of Lerche's skill as a songwriter, but simply rejoice in the melodies themselves. Says Lerche himself, half-proud, half-ashamed, "The tunes on Faces Down poured out of me. beyond my control." Lerche is, if anything, much more in control on Two Way Monologue . This is not to say the songs are any less natural or charming-- melodies undoubtedly poured out of him, but Lerche has much more of a hand in crafting these melodies into truly sophisticated pop songs. (Keep in mind that he'd written many of the tracks on Faces Down when he was just 16.) Lerche is consistently experimenting with alternate chord voicings and more complex song structures, not to mention broadening the scope of his production ethic. Nevertheless, he refuses to sacrifice the integrity of his melodies. With five more years on him, he's also cut much of the sugary and predictable melodrama, and his lyrical tendencies, with often charming flubbed English phraseology, have matured considerably. As a whole, then, the songs are less immediately gratifying than those on Faces Down , but any demand made by Two Way Monologue betrays the extent to which Lerche has grown as a songwriter. If the listener isn't eventually caught in swoons, at the least he will respect the degree of Lerche's refined artifice. Nick Drake's influence seems to play a larger role here than on Lerche's last LP. After "Love You", a baroque recast of Faces Down 's "Things You Call Fate", Lerche begins "Track You Down" in falsetto, accompanied by his own strums, which, for all his solo concert appearances, he has done so rarely on his recordings. Even lyrically, Lerche touches upon Drake's celestial territory: "Down came the sky/ And all you did was blink," and perhaps a more explicit confrontation, "So why am I writing to the moon?" The song showcases the latitude of Two Way Monologue 's production styles, which spans the delicate voice/guitar balance to the massive swells of straightforward, studio-slick chamber-pop to track stuffing reminiscent of Beck's Midnite Vultures . On other songs, Lerche's struggle with his natural inclinations, and his wish to make his songs more interesting, becomes clearer. The sparsely accompanied "On the Tower", "Days That Are Over", and "Counter Spark" all start with verses as straightforward as those on Faces Down , but find their maturity in some intensely dense and beautiful bridges, rich with alternately voiced chords and swells of strings and background vocals. "Counter Spark" itself sports a B-section of "ba-ba-ba bah-ba" that subtly pokes fun at Lerche's melody on "You Know So Well". Elsewhere, Lerche situates himself in two distinct but equally rich 60s rock ballad traditions. Perhaps in light of all the Smile talk, songs like "Wet Ground" recall Beach Boys barbershop harmonies and tongue-in-cheek inflections (e.g. "alar-Ming, dar-Ling"). Meanwhile, the strings and florid instrumentation of "It's Over"-- not to mention the restrained balladic tone of Lerche as he hits and holds his highest recorded note in beautiful falsetto-- situate the song in the shadow of Abbey Road -era Beatles. Admittedly, these aren't Lerche's sophistications so much as they are Lerche appropriating the sophistications of his new touchstones. Still, Lerche attempts them and is to a great extent successful in his own right, never appearing a simple mouthpiece of his muses. Lerche's true accomplishment on Two Way Monologue comes with the title track. It's the album's longest, and encapsulates his stage presence, his songwriting ability, the progress he's made since Faces Down , and the wide variety of production he's employed on Two Way Monologue . The track begins nervously as a solo acoustic song, before instruments gradually begin to fill in the empty space until it's stuffed with distinct acoustic and electric guitar lines, baritone saxophone hits, and synth hooks of various vintage and vocode. At this point, Lerche could retire the "Two Way Monologue" as just another great pop song; but at about the 3:30 mark, as the song retreats into a quiet outro, an acoustic piano and guitar refuse to halt their vamp, and work up enough energy to explode back into the chorus once more, making for the album's most exciting transition. At once a compliment and a criticism, Two Way Monologue may be too dense for one sitting. It engages in the kind of pop overload that characterized Faces Down , though here, it's the melody as well as Lerche's ideas that overwhelm the listener. Malapropisms forgiven ("When tears are pretzels pouring down each time/ The sweetness is returning/ At times when you appreciate that you survived"-- what?), Lerche's lyrics are flat but never distracting. In the end, though, Two Way Monologue bears witness to the growth of an already talented young songwriter for whom the title "talented young songwriter" seems quite inadequate.