There was a time, not that long ago, when the pop world was infused with romantic ennui. This cavalcade of weary-hearted artists was led by the Smiths, whose woebegone tales of love and loathing gave a jolt to bummed-out youth in bedrooms across North America and Europe.
These days you can still find vestiges of that age in plenty of bands. We Were Lovers is one of many. And though their lovelorn indie rock has lots of pretty moments, for the most part it lays supine on the bed like a melancholy teen. The combination of meandering, unintelligible vocals and lo-fi production washes out whatever energy the arrangements give the music. Even bright guitar stabs and an unexpected horn section in “Mirror, Mirror” fail to fully lift the song out of its torpor. Singer Elsa Gebremichael is dreamy, fo sho, but her drowsy singing style is, well, tiring after awhile. In “Birds of a Feather” multitracked vocals give the effect of a chorus of Debbie Gibsons on Quaaludes.
However, all hope is not lost. In the darker “C-C-Call You On,” Gebremichael snarls her way through distorted guitars, adding a killer Blondie edge to the tune. Here’s for waking up on the wrong side of the bed.
