Dyscopia is the second LP from Lulu Lewis, the New York city-based duo formed by vocalist Dylan Hundley and multi-instrumentalist Pablo Martin. It’s out October 7 on limited edition vinyl (300 copies, don’t sleep) and digitally through their own Ilegalia Records. The new record’s ten tracks solidly extend the decidedly ’80s NYC post-punk-new wave-no wave groove thrust heard on their 2019 debut, as the songwriting is smart and the singing and playing urgent. What’s more, the album is infused with the distinctive personality of its makers, so that the whole easily transcends the typically retro.
Dylan Hundley and Pablo Martin rope in a few assists on Dyscopia, but the essence of the album is thoroughly of the duo’s making. Self-described as a conceptual record, although a loose one with no nailed-down narrative or characters (COVID is a tangible theme), “Ready?” opens the set with icy, almost Germanic new wave reverberations, mingling a computerized monotone backing voice with Hundley’s emphatic titular exhortations, and with some very cool Duane Eddy/Morricone guitar from Martin.
The title track follows, delivering a little post-no wave art funky guitar action with new wavey keyboards and a subversive pop angle that lands the duo at an early ’80s, and distinctly NYC, musical crossroads, and more specifically, smackdab in cultural crossover territory explored by predecessors like Tom Tom Club (with whom Martin has connections) and Blondie.
“Animal Control” swings into a post-punky but hard-charging rock zone, and with an emphasis on the punk side of the equation. From there, “Hit Your Town” downshifts the rocking to a throb and with vaguely gothic touches a la Siouxsie, as the bell-like electric keyboard tones deliver another sweet twist. And then, “Passing By” arrives, its sound a tad reminiscent of the more pop-eccentric side of the California new wave shebang, e.g. Wall of Voodoo, and with a hovering keyboard that lingers in my brain as redolent of the Residents.
The art-funk boldly returns In “Fuckingtown,” the track undeniably club-ready and with motions toward the grand sweep of disco, particularly in the back half. Next, “Jungle Birds” quickly swings back to the post punk side of the spectrum, offering breathy chanteuse vocals and a layered electronic weave. Martin gets a vocal turn in “Warrior,” his words alternating with Hundley’s as the track opens with electro energy recalling Fad Gadget and the edgier side of the Neue Deutsche Welle. Later in “Warrior” is the record’s boldest dancefloor-ready funk groove, with this redirect one of Dyscopia’s highlights.
“Dyscopia (Reprise)” unwinds at a slower pace than the version on side one, an appealing variant that gives way to an absolute gem of a finale, as “Our Love” is an anthemic goth-tinged post-punk rocker suitable for arenas (and outdoor amphitheaters at dusk with hundreds of lighters aloft, even), but savvily keeping the emphasis on the tune (because it’s a good one) rather than the trappings.
Hundley and Martin gravitate toward well-established genres, but as the sources of inspiration are complementary and the songs above average, there’s not a thing wrong with that. Also, the record easily sidesteps blunt nostalgia, as there is just too much personal quirk in the contents for the whole to sink into the realms of mere retread. Instead, Dyscopia is Lulu Lewis’ best record yet.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
