Like morning sun peeping through a nautical haze, rays of light dancing across the surface of the shallows, casting silky patterns on the seabed, Flyte's debut album, The Loved Ones is delicately divine.
The album ebbs and flows with emotions, rich 80's synth currents and warm harmonies. It touches a nerve or two, with songs which take me back to my childhood, lying on the living room floor, picking at the carpet, Magical Mystery Tour playing on the television, and songs which remind me of the way I spent last night – tipsy, tripping over in the kitchen of my friend's student house, mixing Bacardi with coke and dancing to ABBA. More than breathtakingly honest, their opening track Faithless is stirring and candid – a song for the sensitive. Dulcet harmonies hold you by the shoulders and steady you, unfeigned TLC for your aching heart. Victoria Falls is dreamy, a little cloudy, leaving watery hallucinations dancing across your retinas when you close your eyes and sink into a weathered leather settee, bathed with the stained-glass disco ball glow of a party light somewhere in North London. It's sweet and sad, followed by Cathy Come Home, a song to chest infect you with its Beach Boy's esque rise and fall melodies and Beatles like lyrics.
Orphans of the Storm lulls you, soft acoustic guitar and clouds on the horizon. A lilting melody carries and comforts the forlorn, luring them in like a lantern out at sea, warm light building, cutting through the dismal and the bleak, flickering and flooding you with relief, alleviation in a little fishing boat. Sliding Doors sparkles with glistening instrumentation juxtaposing 4am thoughts and chew your cheek confessions, high on the 25th floor, disconnected and then suddenly soaring and sincere. Lingering on the backroads of your mind, Little White Lies lifts you up late in the evening when the rain on your window patters restless and relentless. Annie and Alistair is sentimental. It clouds your senses with saccharine nostalgia, Paul Mccartney esque, with story teller lyrics and soothing vocals; one for rainy nights under the outdoor light, sitting on the back steps with cold water dripping and splashing from the railings to your ankles, soaking your socks.
Incandescent and drifting, Echoes illuminates and lifts you with a riff not so far from Tears For Fears. "Noone remembers love, they remember the echoes" resonates with me for reasons I can't quite explain, and though the song seems to shake itself free of the subtle sorrows sewn into previous tracks, it feels at home towards the end of the album, the first sign of a sweeter dream. Spiral seems to stretch and shapeshift as the mist and the clouds finally clear, the rain no longer rain, but dew on the grass, caught in your lashes as you lie back and blink away the last of the pain, basking in the summer haze you've been yearning for. The Loved One's closes with an enchanting acapella version of Alvvays' Archie Marry Me. For a moment there is silence a little hiss, and then Will Taylor wraps you up in one final lullaby. Almost overwhelming, The Loved One's is a tender tribute to anyone who's ever meant the world to
you; deeply personal moments captured as flotsam on an endless stream, an album to be treasured, timelessly.