Swedish singer−songwriter Lykke Li opens her second album, "Wounded Rhymes," with a larger−than−life drumbeat and a retro organ. Although a newcomer to the indie scene, Li has already proven her mettle with "Youth Novels" (2008), a glittering pop record that mixed sleek production with dark subject matter. Li has refined this dynamic in her latest effort, bringing her music to a more enticing, engaging level.
Despite the energy of the opener, though, "Wounded Rhymes" doesn't fully open up until halfway through, when Li's versatility as a vocalist and songwriter is revealed.
Li explores very different territories throughout the record. From the country−tinged "Unrequited Love" to the pounding indie−rock rhythms of "Get Some," she proves her ability to incorporate many different genres into her oeuvre. With such a diverse selection of sounds, the record is bound to have a few lackluster tracks. Li's penchant for ornate, glimmering production value occasionally detracts from her performances.
"Love Out of Lust" is one such occasion. The track begins with an atmosphere reminiscent of her fellow Swedish rockers Honey is Cool. Atmospheric percussion and organs give the song an open sound, but Li's breathless vocals border on cliche during the chorus. As memories of Enya and new−wave whimsy push "Love Out of Lust" into schmaltzy territory, it's hard not to fault Li for such ostentatious production.
"Wounded Rhymes," however, shows how much Li has matured since her debut album. Regardless of the occasional misfire, the album is extremely cohesive. The album's arrangement and production create a unified atmosphere for the album without infringing on the unique character of each track.
"Rich Kids Blues" proves that Li has more than a few vocal hooks in her head. An aggressive drum line and bluesy guitar riffs mingle with some spaced−out keyboard to create another compelling fusion track. Li never makes the mistake of overworking a song: Her penchant for shorter, three−minute track lengths keeps ideas from feeling thinly spread.
"Sadness is a Blessing" solidifies Li's proclivity for tying happier melodies to bleak topics. An '80s pop melody drives an anthem for teenage despair. With lyrics like "Sadness is a blessing/ Sadness is a pearl/ Sadness is my boyfriend/ Oh, sadness, I'm your girl," "Sadness is a Blessing" is either a musical parody of teen angst or, at worst, another cheesy track. It's hard not to take the song with a grain of salt when Li evokes more sincere feelings on the next track.
The album takes a more folky turn with "I Know Places," an elegiac tune with softly strummed chords and an unadorned vocal melody. Subtle, distant backup vocals give the song an even more forlorn air. Li's lyrics don't do the song any favors.
While her melodies can be very expressive, the words often fail to convey the full emotions of her tracks. Li occasionally dwells on saccharine motifs, as she does when she solemnly chants, "I know places we can go, babe," and, "The high won't fade here, babe" in "I Know Places."
Thankfully, the album picks back up with "Jerome," which boasts an energetic drum core beat and a catchy pop chorus. Li's placement of this song helps the flow of the album, which would otherwise feel too dreary in its concluding portion.
"Wounded Rhymes" unsurprisingly ends with a dark song. The dirge "Silent My Song" features repetitive, low chanting that sounds vaguely like a group of inebriated monks. If that's not enough to intrigue you, Li's keen sense of vocal harmonies is enough to build the song to a satisfying climax, when layer upon layer of voices is added.
Ultimately, "Wounded Rhymes" is a solid effort from an interesting newcomer. Li's talents are definitely showcased on the best tracks of the album, but even her skills aren't enough to prevent her from occasionally descending into weepy−eyed territory.
