Long-delayed since its original intended release in 2019, Language Arts have finally blessed our ears with their latest album, Lemon//Lime—aptly named for an album that’s a perfect blend of sweet synth-pop and bitter memories.
Front-woman Kristen Cudmore doesn’t pull any punches when it comes to this album. On the surface, things feel bright, magical—right from the album’s opening, “Against the Wind,” full of airy chiming and a melody like the wind itself. Glittering synth ties the tracklist together in a shiny bow, but despite the whimsy, Cudmore ventures into much stormier waters than expected.
Cudmore wrote much of the album about the aftermath of an accident she suffered in which a drunk driver struck her while she was on her bike. Cudmore explores feelings of disconnect, of feeling betrayed by her own body and mind, of the gruesome and irregular path that any sort of healing follows.
“You Gotta Be Yourself” hits the hardest of all of these. It’s a more visceral look into the trauma uncovered by the aftermath of her accident, with Cudmore reliving painful memories she had long since buried. It’s followed directly by, “Top of the Top” which has Cudmore desperately clawing towards the top of a long climb. Her harmonies are chilling, her tone defeated—a sad, beautiful gem amongst tracks that already sparkle.
But there are brighter moments to be found. “Sprout” is a touching ode to Cudmore’s rescue dog, where she sings of life’s tireless journey to unite the two of them. It’s a tear-jerker for totally different reasons than other songs on the album, with Cudmore singing, “I realize with all of my brain that once I knew I found you, I would never ever be the same.” It’s accompanied by a video charmingly animated by artist Pierre-Julien Fieux.
In fact, the album is accompanied by stunning videos for almost every track, to be found on the band’s YouTube channel. Most of the videos are mixed media animation designed by Cudmore’s partner Britton Proulx, who also does most of the group’s album art. While visuals are typically a nice after-bonus to the music—the meat of the project—Proulx’s work is fated for this album. Vibrant colours, chaotic imagery—it all goes hand-in-hand with the dreamy, galactic synth and Cudmore’s unique vocals.
But in the end, “Indestructible” is the album’s supporting pillar. Cudmore sings of the grittier aspects of her accident over a bubbling tempo, building triumphantly in the chorus as Cudmore declares, “I am rubber you are glue, I am indestructible.” Despite falling early on in the tracklist, this sentiment brings things full circle. It’s the one thing Cudmore clings to in the darkest reaches of this album—and, perhaps, the one thing she seeks to teach us.