On Repeat Julian Lynch

No matter how irritating it is having to crank up the volume when a Julian Lynch song comes on (we know, this is a pathetic first-world frustration), it’s hard to imagine his adventurously dreamy debut album, Orange You Glad, being recorded without a built-in layer of quiet space. On this album, Lynch—who is in the ethnomusicology graduate program at UW-Madison and is playing a free show Sunday at Indie Coffee—blurs the line between the deliberate insider and the charming outsider for a focused collection of warm psychedelia that more than makes up for that title.

One of the finest aspects of Lynch’s songwriting is his ability to get quality mileage out of a single idea. Most of the songs begin with a theme, then expertly bend it, shape it, and stretch it out. “Rancher” introduces a lush, pulsating guitar line between Lynch’s distantly high vocals and a couple of chirping synth lines. Similarly, “Seed” thrives on a swirling synthesizer and a muddy bassline that at once wanders and tugs at the listener to follow it through the entire song. Eventually, some layered off-time guitar parts begin to sneak in as some soaring clarinet lines spiral around them, creating a rich wall of melody as soothing as it is complex.

"Seed" by Julian Lynch

Lynch seems to leave plenty of room for nuance and improvisation, a quality that makes songs like “Venom” (an odd hybrid of dub and folk-rock) feel all the more soulful and dynamic. While the lyrics are pretty much inaudible, Lynch’s vocals never take away from the music either, instead adding bright hooks and and a droning ambience that quivers delicately through the guitar. Though Orange You Glad's lo-fi production can be slightly frustrating at times, it’s always tasteful and transparent in a way that serves the music instead of smothering it in abrasive or distracting static. Orange puts melody and texture before noisy self-indulgence, which makes it both refreshing and engaging.