Lucius - Lucius

Lucius return with an album that trades their previous glossy sheen for something more intimate - though perhaps a touch too buttoned-up. Where 2022's 'Second Nature' embraced 80s maximalism and bombast, their self-titled fourth outing pulls back the curtain on rawer territory.

'Final Days' opens proceedings with disarming folk simplicity before unleashing sharp-angled guitar work that Annie Clark would approve of. It's a promising gambit that suggests new teeth behind those pristine harmonies Holly Laessig and Jess Wolfe have perfected over the years.

Lead single 'Gold Rush' flirts with similar experimentation but never quite follows through on its initial daring. This hesitation becomes something of a pattern - for each creative leap forward, tracks like 'Mad Love' retreat to safer ground.

The record finds its stride in collaboration. 'Old Tape' shines with The War on Drugs' Adam Granduciel lending his distinctive guitar flourishes, while Madison Cunningham brings fresh dimensions to 'Impressions'.

Self-producing for the first time since their earliest days, the band aimed for living room intimacy. Dan Molad's production delivers that warmth - particularly evident in the understated grandeur of 'Orange Blossoms' - though at times, it feels like they're tiptoeing around their own potential.

The album's exploration of loss and renewal (drawing from both vocalists' experiences with miscarriage and guitarist Pete Lalish's maternal bereavement) carries appropriate weight, though sometimes at the cost of the band's natural energy. When they do break free, as in 'Final Days' closing moments, it only highlights what might have been.

Make no mistake - this remains quintessentially Lucius. Those harmonies still enchant, and their arranging prowess never falters. Yet where previous records found liberation within their precision, here they occasionally seem constrained by it. It's a technically accomplished album that hints at greater depths, if only they'd loosened their grip on perfection.