By Michelle Broder Van Dyke
Watching Lykke Li bounce her nimble, lithe body, holding her hand to her head, as she warms up before screaming into a megaphone in the “Breaking It Up (Alternate Take)” video reminds me of a simple fact: sex sells. Better yet, cute Swedish girls who exude sexuality sell.
A standard formula we all know, but these days it has got a twist: GAWS majors and hipster boys wearing their sister’s pants reflect a shift in the standard norms of sex stars from the typical Paris Hilton and Christina Aguilera wannabes, and the spectrum has been widened to less conventional icons like Maggie Gyllenhaal and Swedish pop sensation Lykke Li.
Lykke Li dances with a lot of hopping and arm flinging, which makes her resemble a sexier, less crazed, but still spastic Ian Curtis. She stares into the camera as if she’s looking at you, drops her eyes, and even though she’s breaking up with you, you’re already addicted by the time the catchy hook comes.
Easy to do: the official "Breaking It Up."
Youth Novels, 22-year-old Lykke Li’s first LP, was released in the States in May, and while the album - beginning with a bizarre, ornamental opening track, “Melodies and Desires,” in which she invites you to “come sing with me” - doesn’t really reach the infectious quality or catchiness of her individual hits, that doesn’t mean her sex-selling, sweet designs won’t be to die for at her upcoming show at the Independent on Nov. 1.
Tainted heart: Dance, Dance, Dance.
The second track on Youth Novels, “Dance, Dance, Dance,” hints at the pleasures to come later in the full-length. The fetching opening includes a close-mic’ed bass and bubbling percussion that makes you want to bob along, though not quite dance, dance, dance – at least not yet.
Sultry quirk: "I'm Good, I'm Gone."
“I’m Good, I’m Gone” hints again at the glorious vision that could be, should be Lykke Li. The listener will begin to notice Li’s unusual vocals, which follow in the same vein as indie stars like Joanna Newsom and Regina Spektor, who catch you off-guard with the bizarre effects of their voices. Unlike Newsom and Spektor, Lykke Li would never be accused of sounding annoying. Instead her vocal manipulations add a sultry soul sound to her tracks, only reinforcing that pleasurable sexiness she does so well.
With “Tonight," the listener begins to hear the Li’s power creeping in. The song starts with just piano and vocals and builds slowly before bursting into a complicated array of emotions leaving you wondering if she wants to be released - or not. Filled with suggestive, sweet lyrics like, “We walk the surface of this town, / with high heels above the ground / and high horses that we know / keep us safe into the night / we know them all I know it all / stay put and play along,” Li buries you in supple imagery.
These mysterious love songs are indulgent much the way listening to Britney Spears’ “Sometimes” in eighth grade was. You really really believe she is singing about your precious tween heart and that if you put that song on a mix tape for (insert boy crush here), well, then he’d know: “But if you really want me, move slow.” But Li adds a pinch of adult complication that meditates on the inability to give away your heart after having it tromped on over and over again and the role the physical plays in modern mating games. “Little Bit” captures all of this and carries the captivating power of the aforementioned “Breaking It Up.”
Reality bits: "Little Bit."
By this point in the album you should be about to climax, but there are some big disappointments to bear through before you’ll get to what would make you cum: “Breaking It Up.”
It's the tracks where Lykke Li tries to act a little more serious and slow than maybe she is ready for that lose the listener. Much like the opener, “Hanging High” rings with a triteness that goes beyond simply singing a cliché: “These razors cutting sharp and / leaves me with an ever bleeding scare.” My suggestion is simple: stick with the sexy - stay away from the emo.
“This Trumpet in My Head” offers a lovely discourse between a mandolin and a trumpet, but sounds unfinished with repeated spoken lyrics that total about a sentence and a half. “Complaint Department” is the tip of the iceberg of bad with a synthy beat that wouldn’t be so despairing if her vocals didn’t fall so short of their potential as she speaks/sings the silly lines: “If you wanna complain / I’m not the complaint department.”
Next you hear “Breaking It Up,” and you forgive Lykke Li, a little bit, knowing that every first album is bound to have some imperfections - nonetheless there’s nothing quite like being left with blue balls.
LYKKE LI
With Friendly Fires and Vin Sol
Sat/1, 9 p.m., $15-$17 (sold out)
Independent
628 Divisadero, SF
(415) 771-1421
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