It’s finally here. Four years after their hugely successful debut album If You Wait, London Grammar released their follow-up on the 9th of June, comfortingly on the same day as the 2017 General Election. A huge commercial success, If You Wait bequeathed the gorgeously raw vocals of Hannah Reid to mainstream audiences, earning her various comparisons to Florence Welch’s unique and powerful singing style. Truth Is A Beautiful Thing is London Grammar’s first real release in the public eye and, although it bears hallmarks of the first album’s idiosyncratic style, it stands just as strongly on its own.
“Let winter break, let it burn ’til I see you again” erupts from Reid’s voice on “Rooting for You”, the album opener. Her voice oozes with a melancholic passion from the very start, and even though it’s a mellow opening track, the power that comes from the delivery of each single is true to “London Grammar emotional rollercoaster” form; a relationship tinged with uncertainty seems to be the underlying theme of the track and is vividly created in its tentative nature, not wanting to take things too quickly.
Early on, “Big Picture” develops into a harmonious relationship between Reid’s singing and the mixing of subtle ivory-tickling and sparse treble-heavy guitar. With the help of the background percussion, the song builds into an atmospheric delight with the drawn-out, reverberating vocals circling around the listener’s ear. It’s rich, yet the build-up of the track towards the latter stages is steady and subtle.
“Wild-Eyed”, the next track, is another song which opens with a quiet headiness; the almost-sour strings and ominous piano develops into a strong yet strained chorus arrangement. “Hell no, I am wild eyed and waiting” exclaims Reid, her voice rasping as she reaches her vocal range. “Oh Woman Oh Man” brings a very familiar feel to listeners of the first album, with an introduction derivative of “Nightcall” from If You Wait. However, there’s a different feeling here; “Nightcall” wrestled with the emotions of trying to open up to a love interest and yet here, the feelings are fully developed and Reid is completely upfront with how far she’d go for them.
A Massive Attack-inspired “stutter” in the composition brings “Oh Woman Oh Man” to an end, before the lonesome and low-key “Hell To The Lions” opens with sparse piano chords and atmospheric reverberations ringing in the listener’s ear. I write this review sat alone with a bottle of wine, and I think the opening adequately captures the feeling of loneliness and isolation; it’s gratifying in some respects, but you absolutely know there’s something crucial missing. “Here’s to the things you love” cries Reid. It takes you away with your memories and the ones who make you happy, before closing the track with some lush orchestration.
Luckily, “Everyone Else” feels a little bouncier; the palm-muted guitar adds an abruptness to Reid’s vocal threads, and the percussion feels more vibrant and forceful compared to the previous tracks. While the earlier songs hinted at a budding relationship, this feels like an assured break-up before leading into “Non Believer”, an arena of unrequited affection and Reid trying to tritely convince a potential lover not to build a relationship with someone else.
In the latter stages, the synthesized vocal effects display the duality of emotion here; “all that we are, all that we need, they’re different things” bring forth Reid’s conflicting feelings; it’s a classic case of relationship envy in which she appreciates that the relationship may be genuine, but still mentally supplants herself into the equation.
“Bones of Ribbon” seems to be Reid’s interpretation of inner strength, rather than the “your body’s made of metal” façade that people put on to deal with emotional stresses. The progressive percussion and powerful vocals lead into the refreshing guitar tones in “Who Am I”; although it feels brighter and sunnier, the unease in Reid’s vocals encapsulates the journey she’s gone through in finding herself. It’s indicative of the personal battle with personal identity and change throughout someone’s formative years.
The opening of “Leave The War With Me” has an almost “lounge music” feel to it, the freestyle jazz-cum-trip-hop drumming pairs perfectly with Reid’s saccharine vocals as she wraps around the emotional anguish of falling out of love. As the song builds, the background vocals add another dimension, before disappearing by the wayside. The loneliness is palpable before song builds into the titular track “Truth Is a Beautiful Thing”, the last song of the original release.
Reid’s vocals have been incredibly strong and forceful throughout the album, but unravel to reveal a distinct tenderness in the final song. This song is composed with three things: piano, background reverb and Reid’s voice. It’s amazing how something so simple can be so introspective and so beautiful. “To hold your hand, to hold your heart, would be to me the greatest thing”, whispers Reid, almost afraid to reveal her inner feelings.
On the first listen, I’ll be honest; I didn’t quite think Truth Is A Beautiful Thing possessed quite the same power and visceral rawness of If You Wait (which, personally, has a bit more emotional attachment to it) but further listens were able to give way to more secretive, pained emotions.
Sometimes, people will be a complete open book with their thoughts and feelings, but some will be more closed off and need a bit of interpretation. As a pair, both of London Grammar’s albums encapsulate that. If You Wait was more powerful in its openness, but Truth Is A Beautiful Thing is hauntingly beautiful in its own right if you give it the time to express itself and open up.
The deluxe edition of the album includes a cover of The Verve’s “Bitter Sweet Symphony”, a rearrangement which trades Richard Ashcroft’s brooding vocals for Hannah Reid’s more introspective interpretation. Nonetheless, it’s a great cover, staying reasonably true to the original yet making it true to London Grammar’s style.
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