Two summers ago, as I lounged on the patio of my Cape Cod rental, Laufey’s first studio album, Everything I Know About Love, had decidedly become the soundtrack to a week of magical sunsets and late-night beach walks. That summer, I fell in love not only with the rhythmic waves, but with the assuasive vocals of one jazz-pop singer. Chinese-Icelandic artist Laufey (pronounced Lay-vay) unveiled her first EP, Typical of Me, in 2021. And after her 2023 release of Bewitched, the bossa nova songstress had cemented herself as one of my all time favorites.
Through her music, Laufey often conveys her experiences of loneliness while growing up “weird.” Growing up, Laufey Lín Jónsdóttir felt out of place as a Chinese girl in Iceland, a notably mono-racial country. Her interests in piano and cello began as a young girl, eventually carrying her to Berklee College of Music right here in Boston. However, to the delight of her loyal fans deemed “Lauvers,” the vocalist won a Grammy for Best Traditional Pop Vocal Album in 2023 after years dedicated to her craft. She certainly wasn’t unpopular anymore.
Laufey’s discography constantly loops in my head regardless of my headphones’ battery status. So, naturally, at the announcement of her new album, I literally screamed. Like, my-dad-told-me-to-shut-up kind of screaming. I’d cried at live performances streaming on Hulu, swooned at heartfelt interviews that detailed the singer’s childhood, giggled at silly posts on Laufey’s Instagram story. Naturally, as soon as the news broke, I drew a heart around August 22 with bright purple marker on my bedside calendar. I was so ready.
Laufey’s third studio album, A Matter of Time, played on my AirPods as soon as I woke up that fateful morning. It didn’t matter if I was talking to my mom from the passenger seat (conversation wasn’t very productive) or reading an assigned book (I double checked my work later, don’t worry!) or even taking a shower (I promise I didn’t bring my phone in there). The 14-track record played over and over again, surprising me with new meaning and hidden instrumentals every playthrough. That “surprise” certainly became an element of discussion online. Namely, in the album’s very last track, “Sabotage,” listeners are serenaded with hurtful violins and flashes of insanity.
The 14th track begins with a lavender-scented bouquet of piano and violin. Laufey whispers words of doubt and hurt, her vocals reminiscent of a mourner. Her throat nearly contracts from tearful pressure, yet she croons on. Suddenly, about one minute in, peaceful piano becomes an achingly chaotic violin and I’m twirled into a whirlwind of orchestra. Then, as if nothing happened, Laufey intoxicates the listener with sadness and regret. Suddenly, even less subtly this time, grand instrumentals climactically erupt into echoing drums as the jazz singer emits opera-level vocals. Her agonizing screams convey loss, disappointment, and worst of all: the end.
The album’s second track, stationed on an island in Cancun rather than on a treacherous Arctic glacier, appears far less… icy? Truly, warmth radiates throughout. Every time I hear Laufey’s feathery voice I can’t help but smile, dance, and sing along! Unlike “Sabotage,” “Lover Girl” exemplifies innocent young love and yearning. The summery tune paints an almost 60’s-era picture of tropical beach-side romance. As Laufey finds “20 million ways to cope” with having fallen in love, her voice takes on a dreamy, whimsical cadence. The song also incorporates clapping, a fun gimmick that’s performed well on Laufey’s current tour. As Laufey begins to lose herself in melody, she also loses herself in love. An almost hypnotic violin arrives as the music nears its end, showing a different kind of insanity from that in “Sabotage;” it shows the insanity of love.
Though A Matter of Time certainly demonstrates Laufey’s range, both in songwriting and composition, familiar themes echo throughout like wispy wind chimes. Strings on guitars vibrate like little bells ringing in noontime silence; fingers like clock hands caress rustic violins and tick tick tick across rows of cellos, violas, harps. Love reverberates through the singer’s vibrato as she mourns losing freedom, sanity, and most of all, time.
And so, in a timely fashion, I declare Laufey’s third ever studio album to be… five stars. Quite shocking, really, that I’d give my favorite person ever (sorry, dad) such a high rating. If I could, I’d give her every star in the sky. Instead, I’ll eternally and appreciatively gaze into the creases of her pleated sapphire dress, her smudged eyeliner, her whispering curly hair.
While her recent creation certainly feels intense at times, I’d argue that Laufey’s album can be listened to on all occasions. Whether showering, in school, or on a stroll, I incorporate Laufey’s swayful, sparkling vocals into every scissure in the sidewalk, every string springing from seams in my skirt. I’ll never stop that incorporation, not until my ears have crumpled up into tiny little balls of wistful piano solos and rhythmic cello. I’m hoping (yearning, one could say) for a deluxe version of the album. Beyond that, I will continue to follow Laufey in her journey of experimentation and whimsy. Because what’s life worth if you’re not dreaming your way through it? After all, it’s only A Matter of Time until your story concludes.
