Ugly Duckling Union — Lowertown
Ugly Duckling Union — Lowertown
In a tangle of brokenness, of missed connections, of relationships lost to the wind and tempered suffering, where and how can you find connection?
That’s the question that rings across the wastelands and sullen moods of Lowertown’s newest record Ugly Duckling Union, the NYC-based duo’s first full-length effort since 2022’s I Love To Lie and the product of a four-year break from the music industry that had drained their creative energy.
The album was written in the Atlanta basement where Lowertown first etched out their brand of alt-folk, indie-inspired bliss, and from the very first moments of the project, their inverted, subdued instrumentations scrawl out a distinct outlook— one that is simultaneously hopelessly lost and infinitely reconciled, struggling with crumbling shame and in firm possession of a gleaming optimism.
Across the album’s first three tracks (“Mice Protection”, “Worst Friend”, and “Echo of Desire”) these themes are unilaterally established. Although each accomplishes its goal through different means— where “Mice Protection” toys with the wavering fickleness of a twinkling acoustic, “Echo Of Desire” is springy and insistent in its muddy rhythms— the throughline is clear. Not only is it impossible to gaze honestly upon one’s past actions without a sense of shame, but there’s a prevailing sentiment that the exercise itself is futile.
“Forgive Yourself” then synthesizes these reflections into a direct address. As Olivia Osby belts out the stinging chorus— “It's hard to hurt the ones you love / It's hard to realize it's you who's done the wrong / You who's done the wrong” — the track’s crushingly layered vocals slowly shift from a sly self-loathing to a pointing of the finger. As the refrain is repeated, somewhere around the second chorus, it becomes difficult to tell whether Osby is speaking about the album’s primary character, herself, or the listener. But it is hard to forgive yourself, even when the world around you is equally as broken as you are.
“Big Thumb”, in its twangy self-assuredness, signifies a shift in the album’s tone that trails through “Cover You” and “I Like You A Lot”. Even in the world that Lowertown has constructed across the barrenness of the first four tracks, there is room for hope, and there is room for the tendrils of love to spring forth.
“(I Like to Play With) Mutts” and “DIPSH*T” are, in a way, the previous two tracks’ sonic inversions. Rhythm-driven, low end puddles sprawl out across the plains of self-preservation. “DIPSH*T” especially, in its gloomy amalgamation of “Monster Mash”’s horror motifs and a slew of post-punk, spoken ramblings, is the most enticing track on the album. Its harrowing screams ring out across the landscape that the rest of Ugly Duckling Union has built, and “Anything Good Takes Blood” and “Found A”, until the final moments of the latter track, expound upon this theme of grimacing joy. But when the “friend” espoused at the start of “Found A” leaves, Osby’s bitter refrain brings the project right back to the hallowed grounds where it began: “If only he would've stayed / I wouldn't be looking in the wrong places / If only he would've stayed.”
Ugly Duckling Union employs a vivid image of its ‘ugly duckling’ traversing through the wasteland depicted on the album’s cover and the art for its various singles, seeking out friendship, love, and community in a world that is inherently broken. Its journey from shame, to hope, and back to a forlorn obstinacy is striking.
Yet the album’s true missive isn’t conveyed until the final track, “Some Things Never End”— the only track on the album that features no vocals whatsoever. None are required to bring the point home. This mixture of bittersweetness, of loathing and of yearning for connection, are ceaseless.
The album’s imagistic veil is both powerful and cohesive, but it’s therefore not truly necessary to understand Ugly Duckling Union’s thematic thrust. The world, and the characters, that Lowertown constructs are far too closely aligned with our reality. Ugly Duckling Union, in its sullen way, is a testament to the connection that can be found in our own, personal wastelands.