Album Review: Noah Gundersen – Lover

Lover? More like leaver. Noah Gundersen, the so-called American indie-folk writer who once had such a sensual and charismatic method of producing music, has well and truly checked out.

Maybe Gundersen tried to give this album his all, but maybe (and it feels more likely) he’s just saying he has – there’s no passion, there’s no soul, what we hear is a cookie-cutter attempt at realness. It's disappointing really, but after Gundersen’s sharp left turn into the realms of pop, is it any wonder he’s lost his way?

Hard to believe this is the same guy who wrote David. What ever happened to the cutthroat authenticity, the stripped back and pure melodies that put this guy on the map? They’ve been sold, that’s what. Gundersen has sold his soul to the dollar and in exchange for a more mainstream step into success, has forgotten what it really means to bare your soul.

Gunderson should be credited, however, for his attempts at creating interesting textures through varied instrumentation. Piano meets hip hop nuances, rhythm and blues are (unsuccessfully) married, and the formerly sensual grit of Gundersen’s voice becomes more C-list Jeff Buckley impersonator. 

Gunderson has truly fallen off the bandwagon. Gone is his natural crisp, charismatic twang, the stuff that put him on the map in the first place, replaced by excessive Auto-Tune and sappy, unauthentic tales of whining woe. Some artists can transfer their darkest, saddest experiences into their music and achieve catharsis with great results – Gundersen is not one of them. Disappointment, thy name is Lover.