it’s a wonder that she’s still 
functioning at all.

It’s hard not to view The 

Lamb as the conclusion to some 
unwritten 
bildungsroman, 

but West has been careful to 
clarify that things aren’t so 
clear cut. For now, there may 
not be a definitive end point 
in her journey from addiction 
to sobriety. This sentiment 
is encapsulated in a single 
lyric on “Water Over Sex,” 
the album’s second single, 
where West delicately croons, 
“You think I’m good well I 
want to be gooder.” This is 
characteristic of her lyrical 
style, where communication 
— if sometimes extremely 
oblique — takes priority over 
correctness and blunt honesty 
comes through in both diction 
and delivery.

Lala Lala’s first release, 

Sleepyhead 
(2016), 
was 

recorded 
as 
a 
three-piece 

— guitar, bass and drums. 
For The Lamb, West and co. 
break out the synths and 
the drum machine in a big 
way. 
The 
introduction 
of 
 

“Water Over Sex” feels like 
something out of Porches’s 
Pool 
(2016), 
and 
“Dove” 

shimmers 
with 
a 
warbly, 

aquatic glow punctuated with 
harsh, 
emotive 
harmonies. 

Where the guitar tone across 
Sleepyhead 
is 
brilliantly 

chunky, The Lamb’s is much 
cleaner 
and 
shares 
more 

melodic responsibility with 
the synthesizer.

For all the differences from 

its 
predecessor 
— 
which, 

according 
to 
a 
Bandcamp 

piece on Lala Lala, West 
“doesn’t even consider … a real 
album” — The Lamb holds onto 
the same forward energy that 
made Sleepyhead a standout 
debut. 
West 
consistently 

discovers hooky, ostensibly 
obvious melodies in places 

you’d 
think 
had 
already 

been drilled dry. The Lamb 
also 
finds 
West 
seriously 

exploring her upper register 
for the first time. Opener 
“Destroyer” 
might 
be 
the 

best example, where she sings 
“You are the reason my heart 

broke behind my back” in a 
downward cascade that starts 
higher than she ever sang on 
Sleepyhead and ends in her 
most comfortable range, talk-
singing plainly but forcefully.

On the same day of the 

album release, Lala Lala put 
out a video for “Scary Movie,” 
The Lamb’s ninth track. In 
it, a couple takes turns flying 
a kite on the beach as skips 
and imperfections in the film 
flash upon the screen. The 
man and woman in the video 
are West’s parents, and the 
film taken before West was 
born, though she discovered 
it only recently. Nostalgia 
flows freely from the video, 
while West’s troubling lyrics 
float above: “Spilling blood 
is ugly / Unless I know it’s 
mine,” “This knowing leads 
to horror / There’s hands 
around my neck.” Captured 
here is the ultimate conflict of 
The Lamb, where sweetness, 
love, protectiveness and a 
desire to keep getting better 
are all at war with paranoia, 
anxiety, violence and fear of 
abandonment.

When all’s said and done, 

West doesn’t have any clear 
answers for us. What she 
presents is a raw, thoroughly 
unpretentious reflection on 
being an imperfect human. 
One who lies, who sometimes 
drinks too much, who is hurt 
and hurts, who wants to be 
“gooder” but doesn’t always 
have the energy to do so, or 
even know how. One who, at 
the end of the day, still needs 
to eat. The Lamb is a bold but 
sure second step for West, and 
one that points to a bigger and 
better future no matter what 
the past may have held.

Catch Lala Lala at the 

Loving Touch in Ferndale, 
MI on Friday, Nov. 23rd with 
WHY? and the Ophelias.

I was first exposed to Lillie 

West’s Lala Lala project just 
over a year ago. The Chicago-
based group — a three-piece 
on tour — was opening for 
Surf Curse at Marble Bar in 
Detroit, and their set featured 
visuals that were produced 
and projected live on a drop-
down screen above the band. 
The image was just “Lala 
Lala” tiled across the screen 
with 
various 
effects 
and 

filters applied — relatively 
simple stuff — but the display 
hinted at an enthusiasm and 
willingness 
to 
create 
and 

explore 
different 
ways 
of 

presenting a project. It was 
technically 
a 
“multimedia” 

performance, I suppose, but it 
felt counterintuitively raw and 
unpretentiously DIY.

I later had the privilege 

of seeing Lala Lala open for 
Frankie Cosmos, but before 
then caught one of Lala Lala’s 
bassist Emily Kempf’s other 
projects opening for the D.C.-
based Flasher. The project, 
called Dehd, is a collaboration 
between Kempf and NE-HI 
guitarist-vocalist Jason Balla. 

Balla, in turn, releases solo 
material 
under 
the 
name 

Accessory, and put out the 
excellent Blue Tape at the end 
of this past summer. Seeing 
Dehd — their raw energy, 
movement 
on 
stage 
and 

incredibly hooky guitar riffs 
— and recognizing Kempf was 
actually what prompted me to 

revisit Lala Lala. When I did, 
I was delightfully surprised 
and, wanting more, I began my 
descent down the rabbit hole 
of this particular nook of the 
Chicago indie scene. There I 
discovered 
the 
connections 

between 
these 
artists 
and 

more: 
Melkbelly, 
Whitney, 

Twin Peaks, Post Animal, 
Grapetooth — the list goes 
on. It’s not all that surprising 
that these people know each 
other, but the amount of 
collaboration 
and 
support 

that 
exists 
between 
them 

is impressive and uniquely 
heartening.

The 
Lamb, 
Lala 
Lala’s 

second album and first since 
West made the decision to 
go 
sober, 
seems 
in 
some 

ways a manifestation of the 
camaraderie that exists within 
the scene and between West 
and other friends. Anxiety and 
paranoia, to which West says 
her sobriety has contributed, 
also perfuse the album. On the 
record’s penultimate cut, West 
sings “Keep my friends safe 
keep my friends close / Keep 
my friends safe night and day 
/ Keep my friends safe now 
and always.” Titled “When 
You Die,” the track functions 
as a prayer, one in which West 
has taken the phrase “live 
every day like it might be your 
last” to heart. When she’s not 
around to protect those close 
to her, she has to make sure 
someone is.

It’s important to note that 

West’s paranoia is far from 
unwarranted. While writing 
the album, she suffered more 
than one personal loss, and 
an intruder broke into her 
home. “I wish Herc hadn’t 
died, I wish I hadn’t gotten 
robbed,” she sings on “I Get 
Cut.” Compounded by her 
adjustment to sobriety and 
the stress inherent in being a 
young, independent musician, 

‘The Lamb’: A lot has changed for Chicago’s Lillie West

SEAN LANG

Daily Arts Writer

ALBUM REVIEW

HARDLY ART RECORDS

HARDLY ART RECORDS

The Lamb

Lala Lala

Hardly Art

What she 

presents is a 

raw, thoroughly 

unpretentious 

reflection 

on being an 

imperfect human. 

One who lies, 

who sometimes 

drinks too much, 

who is hurt and 

hurts, who wants 

to be “gooder” but 

doesn’t always 

have the energy 

to do so, or even 

know how

6A — Monday, October 1, 2018
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

