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May 03, 2024 Web Exclusive By Gary Knight

“I liked who we were together / I’m not sure who I’ll be apart,” sings Tracyanne Campbell, and suddenly nine years disappear, and the loss of Carey Lander feels painfully fresh. “Sugar Almond,” named for the late friend and keyboardist’s rabbit-like eyes (“grey as Glasgow skies”), is a stark and jarring acknowledgement of Lander’s passing that arrives late on an album—Camera Obscura’s first since 2013, and most affecting to date—that for much of its first nine tracks makes it easy to forget context that should be harder to ignore.

As an artist, Campbell remains the same gifted songwriter whose voice and wit lend itself so seamlessly to channeling heartbreak and yearning, and while her tendencies often breed familiarity, her words here have added weight, infusing her compositions with bittersweet, hard-won—and funny—dispatches from life’s middle age: “Oh who knew we could feel so young and happy / In our 40s;” “The lines on my face are clear and in sight;” “Don’t live with regret because you only get one life.” Her bandmates, meanwhile, have only gotten better at their instruments, deftly weaving soul, country, and AM pop into numbers made warmer by a human touch, while Jari Haapalainen proves he is as close to an assurance of quality and taste as any producer is in this world.

Haapalainen of course helped put the Scottish six-piece in the pop stratosphere with two brilliant wall-of-sound efforts in the aughts (2006’s Let’s Get Out of This Country and 2009’s My Maudlin Career), and while the reverb is dialed down significantly here, the hallmarks of his sound are everywhere and serve to remind throughout that the band is being presented in the best possible light. That Campbell sought his guidance in navigating what was sure to be a delicate recording situation, and that Haapalainen met the moment, is just one of the album’s triumphs. You could dwell on and admire the songwriting and production for the duration of a full listen, but sublime moments and highlights abound: “We’re Going to Make It in a Man’s World” is the kind of winning twee pop and social anthem that would have anchored an early album, and is sadly relevant here (to the delight of our pleasure centers); “Sleepwalking” commands attention with an intimate lyric and simple piano arrangement, before a well-timed entrance by the rest of the band that feels like a release; and “Liberty Print” is unlike anything Camera Obscura has managed before, with a wispy drum loop and mellow ’70s-style keys ornamenting an upbeat number that belies its highly personal and tragic subject matter.

The unshakable feeling that emanates from Look to the East, Look to the West, with its sterling production and tuneful chapters, is catharsis, of sensing the world turn in the midst of despair and finding some relief in the aftermaths of sad circumstances beyond our control (Campbell sings of children chasing Pokémon in a park during a pandemic, and of seeing loved ones in her dreams after they’re gone). This is a record of survival—theirs and ours. Cheers to a welcome return. (www.camera-obscura.net)

Author rating: 8/10