Lucius ~ Second Nature

I’ve been a Lucius fan since about 2014, in college. I heard about them through Relevant Magazine, in a small blurb about their debut album, Wildewoman. I’ll talk about that record soon, as well as their other albums, because Lucius is my favorite band. Normally, I don’t choose favorites, but I mostly follow solo artists, so it’s easier in this case. Regardless, I fell head over heels for Lucius. Holly and Jess have such excellent vocal chemistry, and the music itself is always fresh and surprising. Second Nature is no different.

This album is surprising in the way it sounds so upbeat, but its lyrics can be so devastating. “Dance Around It,” which features Sheryl Crowe and Brandi Carlisle in the background, is a happy little ear worm at first play, but its subject is a relationship that objectively doesn’t work. No matter how hard those involved want to fix it, there’s no rescuing it and they know it’s true. But, for now, they’ll just enjoy what they have while it lasts. It’s sort of like hindsight being 20/20, but they’re aware then and there. I think we’ve all been someplace in life that was tolerable, enjoyable even, yet was unsustainable.

Holly and Jess really make me emotional just by listening to their harmonies. I’m not even being hyperbolic; a listening session can quickly arouse a sort of tingly-ness that is borderline worshipful. I’ll come out and say it: “LSD” is sacred music. I dare you to check out 2:30 in that song (after listening all the way of course) and tell me you don’t feel something spiritual. Or the whole of “White Lies” for that matter. Some songs, like “The Man I’ll Never Find,” bring up regrets I’ve made myself suppress and help me learn what my underlying fears for the future are. “White Lies” and “Dance Around It” combine to elicit a panic within me by forcing me to reflect on past failures (but still having a good time all the way). Then, the end of the former sounds like salvation and forgiveness for myself, owning and accepting my flaws. These songs trigger sensations within me that make me miss people I haven’t thought of in years, which is the sort of thing I usually save for stress dreams or a reflective glass of scotch. In one playthrough of this album, I can mourn the loss of what I used to have, celebrate what I’ve gained since, and have a good time all the way.

Lucius has been part of my life’s soundtrack for 8 years; that’s two degrees, a near-death experience or two, three girlfriends, and four cats (all of whom are still alive as of this writing, I promise). So much about me, what I believe, and who I am has changed since 2014, but I still haven’t outgrown my love of Lucius. Rather, I think I’ve grown with them. I look forward to so much more life with Lucius.