Album by Dry Cleaning

Sometimes there’s art out there that I just don’t have the background to fully understand. David Lynch movies can go over my head. There are paintings and poems that I need help breaking apart because I just don’t have the tools to figure them out on my own. And those stupid pictures where you’re supposed to stare at them until you see a sailboat? I never see the sailboat.

That’s kind of how I feel listening to Secret Love by Dry Cleaning. There’s something about this album that sits just outside my area of experience. I can’t always break down what I’m hearing or figure out what a song is trying to tell me, even after repeated listens. Sometimes I think I get there. Sometimes I know I don’t.

Florence Shaw’s vocals are often more conversational than traditionally sung, while the music moves through all sorts of different territory. I hear echoes of Tom Tom Club, the Pixies and Half Man Half Biscuit, but these songs aren’t exact copies of anything I know. They take familiar sounds and transform them into something a little strange, even when I recognize the pieces.

The lyrics are just as slippery. I hear what seem like observations about capitalism, class, society, sexism or misogyny. Other times, I feel like I’m listening to a little story without knowing quite what to make of it. There are ideas here that seem meaningful, even when I’m not sure how they fit together.

That makes listening to Secret Love an interesting adventure. The album is inviting one moment and inaccessible the next. I keep finding things I like, even when I’m not entirely sure what to do with them.

The music in “Hit My Head All Day” keeps shifting around Florence Shaw’s voice, which moves between spoken word and singing. Just when I start to feel like I’m getting a handle on everything, something changes and I’m trying to find my footing again. That fits my reading of the song, which feels like it’s about the way outside influences shape how we think and react, even when we don’t fully understand where those influences are coming from.

There’s something sunny about “Cruise Ship Designer,” with its laid-back, herky-jerky guitar that almost has a surf-rock feel. But the song seems to pull that sound apart, and the little backing vocals help create the feeling of a distorted California song. The pieces don’t quite fit together the way you’d expect.

I hear a tongue-in-cheek take on the contradiction of knowing capitalism can be predatory but still needing to participate in that system to make a living. The breezy sound makes that tension even more interesting.

“My Soul / Half Pint” brings the Pixies to mind, especially in the way the guitar, bass and drums fit together. Shaw sounds as though she’s thinking aloud, and the music gives those thoughts a life of their own. The contrast between her conversational delivery and the band’s restless playing makes the song feel like an internal argument that never quite settles.

There’s also something here about how, even in the middle of an ordinary task, alone with your own thoughts, you’re carrying the expectations of the world around you. The song touches on gender roles, how those roles can become part of your internal dialogue. You can recognize those expectations and resent them, but that doesn’t mean you’re free of their influence.

One of the more earnest-sounding moments on the album comes with “Secret Love (Concealed in a Drawing of a Boy).” It’s the first time Shaw really sings, and the choruses are beautiful, with her voice, the background vocals and the instrumental arrangement coming together.

There’s a sense of uncertainty here, of a relationship that doesn’t have a clear definition. The feelings are there, but they’re concealed, slipping through little messages and gestures rather than being openly expressed. The melody gives that uncertainty a vulnerability that feels different from the more conversational delivery elsewhere on the album.

“Let Me Grow and You’ll See the Fruit” works as a slow burn, driven by a repetitive guitar pattern that keeps circling through the song. The music doesn’t necessarily get bigger or louder, but somehow it feels as though it does. The lyrics are devastating. I hear someone who appreciates being alone but is also lonely, who wants to connect with people but struggles with anxiety and is afraid to open up.

The title sounds like a promise of what’s to come, but the song ends before that growth happens. The music keeps moving forward without exploding into a triumphant crescendo. We’re left waiting for that moment of change, just as the person at the center of the song is still waiting to get there.

With its jangly, fast-paced guitar riff, “Blood” might be the album’s most conventional-sounding indie-rock song. The guitar has a Johnny Marr quality to it, while a more mechanical, almost industrial rhythm underneath gives the track a different kind of energy. The song gets at the guilt and complicity of being part of a society where atrocities are committed in your name. There’s a tension between feeling responsible for what’s happening and carrying on with your own life.

I’m never quite sure whether “Evil Evil Idiot” is telling a story or using one as a metaphor for something bigger. Maybe it’s about someone who likes eating burnt food, and I’m reading too much into it. But the sinister, slinking music gives the song a dystopian atmosphere that sends my mind toward environmentalism and the things we know might be harmful but keep doing anyway.

That’s part of what I find rewarding about listening to Secret Love. It gives me room to go spelunking into the lyrics, even if I never find anything definitive down there.

“Rocks” is one I still can’t quite get a handle on. I hear frustration and disappointment, but maybe that’s because of how heavy the track sounds. The guitars are louder and more frenetic, with a punk energy and a clanging, almost industrial feel.

“The Cute Things” is a fun change of pace. The guitar has a clean, almost classic-rock sound, bringing to mind 70s Tom Petty or the Rolling Stones. It’s a more conventional sound for Dry Cleaning, and there’s a looseness to it that I enjoy. The lyrics leave me wondering about two people who are expected to understand each other but have grown so differently that they don’t quite connect.

The atmosphere shifts again with “I Need You.” Quieter, almost ambient sounds sit alongside electronic elements and a heavy undercurrent. Shaw’s spoken vocals and the overall mood remind me of a stripped-back, darker version of Brian Eno and John Cale’s Wrong Way Up. I get a sense of wanting someone who hasn’t quite discovered you yet. You choose someone and wait for them to recognize what you feel, without knowing whether they’ll ever see you the same way.

“Joy” closes things out with a catchy alternative indie-rock sound and a really cool guitar riff. There’s that familiar mix of spoken word and a little singing, and the hook makes this one easy to enjoy. The lyrics feel like magnet poetry, with thoughts and images that don’t quite form a clean narrative. Still, I get a sense of wanting to find a better world outside all the noise, chatter and chaos that surrounds us.

Secret Love has its own language, and it took me some time to get close to its wavelength.

When I first started listening, the off-kilter music and spoken-word vocals were things I struggled with. But the more time I spent with the album, the more it made sense. Or, more accurately, I stopped trying to fit it into something familiar and started to appreciate the gorgeous moments hiding in plain sight.

I still don’t know if I see the sailboat. But after spending time with Secret Love, I can say that I definitely saw something.

Verdict: Worth a Spin

 

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