Curse of Lono - People in Cars
By Libby Driscoll
Emerging from the grey depths of a year abundant with despair, death, and reminiscence, Curse of Lono’s People in Cars blooms from the roots of frontman Felix Bechtolsheimer’s grief.
Curse of Lono - People in Cars
Birthed from the darkest of sentiments, People in Cars is the embodiment of a year plagued with anguish. After losing his father, uncle and ex-partner in the midst of the pandemic, Bechtolsheimer channelled his grief into a collection of insightful works resulting in the creation of his latest album. Named after Mike Mendel’s photo book which captured people inside their cars at an LA intersection in the ‘70s, Bechtolsheimer explains, “I love the idea that in each car there’s this whole story or a whole family’s story, but we’re all in these bubbles. It’s like the support bubbles in lockdown”.
People in Cars is a philosophical journey through the lingering train of thoughts left echoing through your mind after a merciless experience, clutching at the darkest corners of the human psyche. The album is thick with an expressive resonance akin to The National’s Trouble Will Find Me, presented through familiarly warming, yet sorrowful vocals. Instrumentally, the music sways from modern alternative indie rock to early 2000’s American alt-rock, with influences of The National, Jerkcurb and Wilco shining through particularly strong.
Curse of Lono’s eleven-track album opens with Let Your Love Rain Down On Me, a gradual and atmospheric welcome into a realm a rawness and brutality. The track feels gentle, formed together with a steady drum machine and padded melodies weaving in and out of one another alongside delayed guitars.
Pictured: Felix Bechtolsheimer
Third in the track listing is Ursula Andres, a sweep of pseudo-nostalgia dedicated to Bechtolsheimer’s son and the youth he wished he had experienced himself. The track travels on a lighter note, reminiscing about “sipping margaritas on the backseat as you’re singing to the radio”, within a light and airy work, thick with the reminiscent warmth of youthful summer evenings.
Further throughout the track listing and channelling the themes of cult classic soundtracks, So Damned Beautiful features the lusty vocals of Tess Parks, enchanting a Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazelwood worthy performance. Inspired by the harrowing story of an ex-lover fleeing with their counterpart and passing away due to a drug overdose, Parks plays the part of Bechtolsheimer’s ex-lover, with himself performing the role of the anti-hero.
“I wrote the song from the point of view of the guy, who I didn't know, of that dirty weekend, and that overdose. When you OD on heroin you do feel pretty great until it goes wrong, so that stuff came back into the picture.”
- Felix Bechtolsheimer on So Damned Beautiful
Seeing a surge of energy prior to the climax of the album, Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride takes you on a psychedelic drive through the highway of Bechtolsheimer’s mind. The persistent hit of shakers and percussion accompanying creeping electronic piano adlibs sparks a trippy glance into the late ‘60s, keeping a grounded backbone whilst the decorations of the music bury themselves deep into your skin.
Pictured: Felix Bechtolsheimer
People in Cars closes with Timeslipping; a nine-minute piece birthed as a response to losing his father. The ethereal closer emanates the rawness at the beginning of acceptance, flitting between harmonic spoken verses and sweeping pads, the piece truly feels like the still, yet, inconsistent state of mind triggered by the sudden pain of grief.
“I pressed record and I recorded this thing that went on for 20 minutes. All that I did afterwards was transcribe the lyrics. The night that my dad passed away, I've never seen anyone in so much pain. I still can't write about that, but I could just let it flow out”
- Felix Bechtolsheimer on Timeslipping
People in Cars is truly a substantial piece of work to behold. The brutality of true and lived experience is resonant throughout each and every sombre line, melody and cadence. The album doesn’t accept defeat but instead, accepts fate; something I found truly endearing about People in Cars. Despite the unspeakable fate that bestowed itself upon Curse of Lono’s frontman, each track lingers with an air of presence, and dare I say, slight optimism, welcoming the embrace of the future and the coarse journey of grief ahead.