Lou Roy – Pure Chaos | Album Review
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Chaos. It’s one of those words that the internet has seemingly become obsessed with in recent years. It’s a descriptor that’s attributed to a wide range of content, often used similarly (but not analogously) to terms like “cursed” or “unhinged.” Just look at one of the many “Tiktoks That Radiate Chaotic Energy” compilations. It’s become a catch-all for anything we deem unconventional or unexpected– a video of a possum eating Froot Loops, fanart of Sonic smoking weed with Spongebob, a woman duck-facing in a supermarket aisle with a bag of chips balanced on her head. One might wonder if we’ve reached market saturation, if the word has lost its meaning from overuse. After all, if everything is chaotic, then nothing is.
I’d credit this overexposure in part to the popularity of Dungeons & Dragons alignment charts, which became a stock meme format in the 2010s and have since persisted due to how easily the 3x3 set-up lends itself to various means of categorization. This fairly simple formula situates chaos as the antithesis of lawfulness, yin-and-yang equal opposites with the same relationship to one another as good and evil. If we take chaos to mean the absence or disregard of lawful behavior and expectations, then it makes plenty of sense that Lou Roy would choose to set her debut album Pure Chaos against the backdrop of the seemingly lawless landscape of Las Vegas. Roy has said that the city’s hedonism and larger-than-life tackiness served as the inspiration behind the record. Through the excess and artifice, she manages to tap into an earnestness, metaphorically hot-gluing rhinestones to thoughtfully crafted pop songs. “Scroll” sees her offering a metacommentary on (in)authenticity in the digital age, singing, “I stare at my phone all day/What a nasty way to engage with the world/What an unfair way to play/I could play guitar and sing.” When Roy chooses to go for something bright and flashy, it’s because she’s already got something of substance to draw attention to.
A self-described “anti-genre singer-songwriter who has never done anything weird or wrong,” Lou Roy pulls from a variety of sonic influences, consistently proving her jack-of-all-trades crossover appeal. She breezily floats from the quirky alt-country of vocalists like Faye Webster and Laura Stevenson to the sunny, sardonic pop-rock of Caroline Rose and Pure Chaos co-producer Sarah Tudzin’s band, illuminati hotties. At times she even manages to capture the singalong earworminess of an early-to-mid-2010s Taylor Swift hit. Lead single “Uppercut” in particular occupies an energy not unlike “22,” albeit with a more present awareness of one’s mortality. Not that Roy would let something as silly as the looming eventuality of death get in the way of a good time– the infectious hook laughs in the very face of such surrender: “I swear to you babe we’ll always have our fun/even when we’re grinded into cosmic dust/even when we’re back on earth as pond scum.”
Whether she’s unabashedly admitting to being a New Year’s Eve Hater or celebrating life’s small joys– a french fry grease-soaked night with friends at a 24-hour diner, waking up with her dog’s “fat face” on her shoulder –Roy hits us with simple truths about the good and the bad that life throws at us, and she takes both in stride. Even in the midst of “plenty of horror stories/plenty of bad days,” her commitment to having fun is never shaken. In the music video for this peppy song-of-the-summer contender, Roy struts unbothered through suburban streets with a small army of puppies leashed to her belt like charms dangling from a charm bracelet. The aforementioned Sarah Tudzin even makes a cameo appearance as an onlooker, perplexed by (and in awe of) Roy’s magnetic energy and unshakeable confidence.
Pure Chaos does not necessarily feel like an album that sets out to be chaotic, but rather a collection of songs about eschewing rigid expectations and embracing the inevitability of chaos. Opener “Valkyrie” serves as a thesis statement for the “fuck it” philosophy that drives the album. The song begins with minimalist percussion from the tapping of a plastic bottle, as Roy explains that she was “forced to breathe on purpose.” From the get-go, she admits her powerlessness to the whims of a random, lawless universe: “Chaos reigns/all is permitted.” The song’s title is a reference to spirits in Norse mythology responsible for guiding fallen soldiers into the afterlife. Roy implores these mythological beings to ride with her into the unknown. Over the moody synths of “Down Since ‘07,” she reaffirms that she’s “down for whatever,” with a casual coolness that dissolves into a moment of quiet vulnerability at the track’s outro. “You’re the only one pulling me out of the corner to dance,” she sings, her voice hushed and breezy. The jagged, jangly percussion and layered harmonies of “Big Anvil” place it in a sweet spot somewhere between Fiona Apple and HAIM, as Roy asserts her relentless optimism in the face of uncertainty. The future is a source of simultaneous hope and fear for her, as it is for many of us, and Roy clings to aspirations that are small but life-affirming– “One day I’m gonna take that girl to dinner/One day I’ll get the band back together.”
On softer, more introspective ballads like “Bull Ride” and “If We Were Strangers,” Roy’s vocals take center stage, pouring warmly through Golden Hour-era Kacey Musgraves production like sunlight through a window. Both feel like “what-if” songs, with Roy taking on a nostalgic, daydreamy tone as she envisions alternate timelines in which her reality might’ve been different from the one she’s currently living. It’s a subtle but welcome contrast in an album that– especially in its more high-energy tracks –sees Roy radically accepting whatever craziness life sends her way. To get these moments in which she quietly indulges fantasies instead of embracing what’s right in front of her gives the album a refreshing sense of thematic tension.
The album closes with the grand, sweeping finale of “Dream,” a country ballad fit for the closing credits sequence of a big-budget Western film. It’s not just the references to leopard prints and press-on nails that give the song a gaudy-glam drugstore cowgirl feel– on what is perhaps Roy’s strongest and most compelling vocal performance, she takes her voice to its most show-stopping emotional heights, evoking the sultry charm of Nancy Sinatra and Angel Olsen alike. While most of the album seems to look toward the precariousness of the future, the closer takes on a wistful, reflective tone, with an eye towards the past. As with many other Pure Chaos cuts, “Dream” reminds us that what is beautiful is often also fleeting. The throughline of Roy’s debut album seems to be its message of acceptance– learning to let go of control and enjoy going along for the ride. But as she croons, “dream, baby it’s different in real life,” we see that when it comes to facing what’s real, imagination just might be her greatest superpower.
Grace Robins-Somerville is a writer from Brooklyn, New York. You can find her on Instagram and Twitter @grace_roso.
