Evan Dando and The Lemonheads have long perfected the art of combining dishevelled charm with polished hooks. On Love Chant, that signature balance remains, but the emphasis shifts toward raw spontaneity and grit. The record pulses with rough-hewn vitality, refusing to settle into any one style and instead revelling in a joyful disregard for convention. In an era dominated by over-polished, homogenised pop, Love Chant lands like a rare jolt of honest imperfection.
Guitars squeal and shimmer, rhythms push and pull with wild precision, and Dando’s vocals crack and bend just enough to remind you this is music made by flawed, breathing humans — not algorithms. A defiant gesture against the sterile and manufactured, it’s easily the band’s most inspired work in years.
You can hear all of this from the off. ‘58 Second Song’ does exactly what it promises — gnarly and urgent, a short, sharp hit of adrenaline that sets the tone. From there, the record shapeshifts with a confidence born of years of experience and a willingness to embrace the unknown: ‘Deep End’ rides on a wall of fuzz and grit; ‘In the Margin’ snarls with revenge-fuelled urgency that’s as hooky as it is raw; and ‘Wild Thing’ blends jagged indie-rock swagger with ’90s alt-rock heft.
Love Chant really stands out in the current landscape through its commitment to its off-the-cuff energy. ‘Marauders’ — a gleefully rambunctious highlight — exemplifies this restlessness, with twitchy percussion, detuned guitars, and an addictive bass bounce that gives way to playful Casio trumpet flourishes — elements that shouldn’t cohere but somehow do, driven more by instinct than calculation.
That spontaneity is fueled by a revolving cast of collaborators. The band is joined by J Mascis, Juliana Hatfield, Bryce Goggin, Erin Rae, the Blake Babies’ John Strohm, and the Bevis Frond’s Nick Saloman, along with co-writers Adam Green and Tom Morgan on ‘Wild Thing’ and ‘Deep End,’ respectively. It’s a line-up that defies the old saying about too many cooks: despite the stacked roster, there’s no sense of overreach. Each collaborator adds nuance, expanding the sound while keeping the band’s core intact.
Elsewhere on the album, ‘Cell Phone Blues’ veers between styles like a restless mind searching for solace, swinging from Britpop nonchalance to punk ferocity in a matter of seconds. Similarly, ‘Togetherness Is All I’m After’ finds common ground between scuzzy rock and country-tinged shuffle, pulled off with the kind of devil-may-care ease few bands dare attempt anymore.
Buried in the album’s momentum are also flashes of real vulnerability and reflection. ‘The Key of Victory’ dials everything back with a soft acoustic strum and understated vocal, offering one of the record’s most resonant motifs — “Life’s too short, so live a sparkling life” — which hits with the weight of something lived through; a reminder that thirty years can pass in a blink, but it’s never too late to make something that matters.
The title track ventures into psych territory — part jam, part mission statement — while closing cut ‘Roky’ bathes itself in a sun-soaked haze: swirling layers and thick bass lock in tight with guitar lines that cast their gaze backwards whilst simultaneously embracing the experimental. It’s a satisfying full stop to a record that never succumbs to complacency.
What’s most striking about Love Chant is its sense of intent. It’s a sharp, unruly, creatively charged album that stands entirely on its own. There’s a confidence here that plays louder, messier, and better than almost anything else this year. Few bands — thirty years in — manage to sound this loose and alive. Love Chant is a powerful reminder that music, like life, is best enjoyed when it’s a little bit imperfect, a little bit wild, and bursting with soul.
VERDICT:
Love Chant releases October 24 via Fire Records and is available HERE.
