Blue Weekend

The opening track, The Beach, lowers the volume first. The piano repeats, the vocals pile up slowly, and once the band comes in, the question that started out hesitant is finally asked loudly enough. The lyrics touch on friends, relationships, and whether you can become a burden to other people. That hesitation, set against a sound that gets thicker and thicker in the second half, gives the album weight from the very start.

Delicious Things has a bit more space. The bass and drums hold the song steady, Ellie’s voice speaks quite finely out front, and the harmonies are spread far behind her. She is tempted in an unfamiliar city, and she is a little uneasy about what she is doing. The specific people and places in the lyrics do more than a vague line about loneliness would. You can feel that she wants to stay, and that she is also thinking about her old life.

Lipstick on the Glass is one I’m very happy to listen to again and again. The high notes are light and clear, the drawn-out endings join up with the echo of the guitar, and the melody stays suspended the whole time. It is about knowing something has already gone wrong and still wanting to keep a person close. The longing in the voice is obvious, but the accompaniment makes that longing feel not quite reliable. It sounds like things could go on, but in fact it never lands firmly.

Smile comes at just the right time. A low, fuzzy guitar takes up its place first, the way the words are bitten off in the verses is a bit rough, and the chorus opens all the way up. The sharpness here is specific: she is fed up with other people presuming to explain her personality. Being sensitive does not mean being willing to be pushed around at any time, and being gentle does not mean having no temper. Ellie sings this impatience with real relish.

What’s interesting is that the next song, Safe From Heartbreak (if you never fall in love), pulls the instruments back again. The acoustic guitar and layered vocals make the song feel light, but the title already gives away how thin that way of protecting herself is. The melody is so warm, and yet the mouth keeps insisting it doesn’t need love, so it sounds a little like bravado.

How Can I Make It OK? doesn’t hurry to expose that bravado. The movement of the bass and the long lines of the vocals keep the song going forward, and the chorus keeps asking, without turning caring into a set of guarantees. I really like the patience here. She wants to help, and she admits she doesn’t know what to do for now. The question in the title is sung over and over, and that is already enough.

Play the Greatest Hits breaks the steadiness we just had. It is short and fast, the drums and guitar are crowded together, and the vocals are deliberately left rough. Within the whole album, this sudden restlessness is necessary. Blue Weekend is made too beautifully most of the time, and now and then it needs a song like this to rub off the smooth surface.

Feeling Myself changes the speed again. Its weight comes from slowness, from the gaps between the drum beats, and from the way the sound gradually builds up. Ellie sings it loosely, but the song keeps gathering force. That affirmation of her own desire doesn’t need to be shouted, and slowed down it is more sure of itself.

The Last Man on Earth builds a sense of solemnity with piano and widely spread harmonies, while the lyrics look at someone who is far too centered on himself. This arrangement is clever. The music almost wants to give him a stage, and the lyrics then make you notice that he has probably got his own importance wrong. Grandeur and irony exist together, so the song isn’t left with only prettiness.

I really like how the album holds back near the end. No Hard Feelings, with its acoustic guitar and close-up vocals, lets a breakup finally be talked about calmly for a while. Then The Beach II returns to friends and the time spent together, and the hazy guitar and stacked singing slowly loosen the tension from before. At the start she was worried about whether she would be accepted, and by the end she can already stay among these people.

There are places in Blue Weekend that are, of course, polished almost to the point of luxury, and the harmonies and reverb can give different emotions a similar sheen. But its running order is very good, and just when I’m about to get used to one sound, the next song changes the angle. What is even rarer is that these changes always stay centered on the songs. After listening, I remember the melodies, and I also remember the person in them, who can soften, who can get angry, and who cares about her friends.