Sunday Cruise – The Art of Losing My Reflection | Album Review
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Lauren Records
The first time I got my heart broken, I was thirteen. I sat on the floor of my childhood bedroom with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, purple mascara flooding my cheeks, and cried to whatever sad breakup songs came up on YouTube. This would not be the last time that I felt agonizing pain after indulging in love, nor would it be the last time music became my only comfort. There is something empowering about having a soundtrack to your suffering, an energy that is difficult to pin down. Chicago indie-rock band Sunday Cruise confidently deliver that energy in their latest album, The Art of Losing My Reflection - a surf-inspired collection of pining love letters with dreamlike guitars and hooks that stick for days on end. Across twelve tracks, we are blessed with anthems of desperate adoration that convey one central message - there is an inevitability in longing, one that is ageless and incessant. At every turn of this album, I found myself faced with a million past selves, confronting the loneliness of heartache I felt from ages 13 to 25. If you’re looking for a generous rhythm section, dizzying guitars, and vocals as ethereal as the words themselves, Sunday Cruise packaged it up and tied it together with a silk bow for your consumption.
On the album’s first single, “Oh Lover, Why?” the quartet firmly established the dancy heartache that would act as the album's emotional throughline. Despite the heavily emotional topics the group explores throughout the record, the delivery is melodic and energetic enough to keep you grooving along. Everything about the music warrants jumping, dancing, and swaying. Lyrically, it begs, it pleads, it’s wrought with merciless abandonment. In spite of itself, by the end of the song, the affliction subsides into acceptance. It’s time to let the lover go and say goodbye.
Later on in the album, “Bitter” proves to be an instant classic. Lead singer Zoe Garcia dives in with deliberate exposition that seems to recall my own experience from high school - I dated a boy who lived thirty minutes away, and neither of us could drive. What the fuck do I do? “Maybe we’ll fall slowly. Maybe you’ll stay, and I won’t get so lonely.” The hopeful and dreamy lyrics are relatable beyond nostalgia - seventeen or twenty-seven, driver's license or not, sometimes you just crave ceaselessly for another person, the lingering cologne forcing you to the brink of insanity. “Bitter” delivers the waltz of wanting to run away with your lover both lyrically and musically.
The star of this album rollout is undoubtedly the music video for “Pretty Girl.” It begins with a viewer discretion warning that I thought was facetious - no, it was for sure required. It’s shot retro-style with focused lighting and floating florals that look like something Kate Bush would adore. The beginning oozes with femininity in its surface-level forms: white gloves, red roses, silk bows, you name it. The following shots delve deeper into where the video is headed with tape measures, pill bottles, and a friendship bracelet that affectionately reads “DIE.” A ballerina twirls mockingly next to a porcelain crucifix. It’s about to get real good.
I won’t spoil the ending for you because it’s something that must be experienced first-hand. Think worms, think the unattainable beauty standard, think the faceless monolith that threatens deviation from feminine expression. Heed the warning. Hold on to your teeth and fingernails.
As I kept The Art of Losing My Reflection on repeat, I couldn’t help but realize with every spin just how special this album is. It was subtle at first, something I couldn’t quite capture, but as I delved deeper into the album, lyrics, and videos, everything came together. By presenting heartbreak alongside such danceable music, Sunday Cruise perfectly encapsulated the enigma of love: the euphoric rush and the crash all at once. It came to me as I was reminded of my first girlfriend, who broke up with me on a suburban porch. I had purged from my mind the men I dated who, in retrospect, really didn’t like me that much, until the music dropped them at the forefront of my memory. The ongoing struggles of not being pretty enough or cool enough, of trying to prove that you’re even good enough- it’s all there, it’s all brutally honest, a comforting reminder that it’s all too common. The isolating feeling of unrequited love is something every single person on earth has felt. 100% of the human population have dreamt of having that one person, so close but so out of reach, finally in their arms. The extraordinary thing about this album is the way the band turns such longing into a comfortable hug. It’s okay, we’ve all been there. Here’s something to get you through it.
The Art of Losing My Reflection continues Sunday Cruise’s theme of infectious music and dire lyricism. It’s authentic, it’s beautiful, and it made me ache for the girl I once was. If my thirteen-year-old self could have heard it, she’d need a second pint of ice cream. If my fifteen-year-old self could have heard it, she would have probably made a few better friends. If my seventeen, eighteen, and twenty-two-year-old self could have heard it, she probably would have saved some wasted time from some less-than-fulfilling relationships. Until time travel exists, though, I’ll just be thankful I get to hear it now and consider it a gift - sorrow, silk bows, and all.
Sofie Green is an average music enjoyer from Milwaukee, WI. She is your biggest fan. Find her relentlessly hyping her favorite DIY bands from the Midwest and beyond at @smallsofie on Instagram and @s_ofs_ on Twitter.
