Lydia Ainsworth — Darling of the Afterglow

Arbutus | discogs.com

Moonstone and malachite swapped out for crisp, funky pop stylings.

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Her debut album, Right From Real was an elaborate Amidalesque headpiece dripping with jewels and beads. The wide, white brim of Afterglow is lighter and altogether more practical, but never at the expense of Ainsworth's signature elegance.

She has swapped out the moonstone and malachite for funky basslines and crisp drum machines. Like the most recent LP from Florence and the Machine, the mystical aesthetic — icy harp, chiming bells, exotic woodwinds — has been set aside for straightforward pop.

There comes a moment on Ainsworth's sophomore record that Right From Real would have set, predictably, to the harp. But when arpeggio time rolls around, Afterglow rolls up the sleeves of its stylish silk blouse and pulls out an honest-to-God banjo. It's been a long time since I've literally laughed out loud at a song. A confident hand takes such brazen and incongruous risks, but a defter hand pulls them off with such aplomb.

Afterglow presents an artist changing direction mid-stream, trying on a different and more flattering hat. Would that we could all be so bold, and so fashionable.