Solitaire News

“In some respects, Trust is a simultaneous documentation of progression and regression. A homecoming of sorts, influenced by the interim where we developed our skills as producers and our skills as artists. Armlock, as a vehicle, seems like returning full circle to where we started.”

Trust, out June 2, 2021, is the debut release of Australian duo, Armlock. It’s a nuanced record that explores trials felt in personal growth, from resentment to submission to complacency. A quiet, thrashing gem of songcraft, the record makes as much use of the intimate, empty space as it does of its layered, heavy instrumentals. Each one of these songs conjures a summer storm of internal conflict, with the angst and uncertainty that comes with realizing that you’re finished growing, and rather than feeling a sense of ease you’re left restless and discontented.

Multi-instrumentalists Simon Lam and Hamish Mitchell met studying jazz together at Monash University in Melbourne. While rehearsing standards for a small ensemble in 2010, the two discovered their mutual hatred of the genre, opting to explore experimental, song-based electronic music. Alongside Solitaire Recordings owner, Dan Rutman, they went on to form the group I’lls, releasing four records in five years, and, later, the two went on to form Couture. Simultaneously, Lam (along with his cousin Chloe Kaul) found success with the synthpop group Kllo, amassing over 100 million streams on Spotify and critical acclaim from Pitchfork, The Guardian, GQ, NME, NYLON, and Stereogum. Lam’s solo project Nearly Oratorio (also on Solitaire Recordings) has achieved acclaim in its own right, as has Mitchell’s work as a producer and designer for artists like Jack Grace.

With their first release as Armlock, the duo maintains the depths of I’lls’ electronic soundscapes but brings the warmth of analogue instruments with Lam’s clear, disillusioned singing up front. He sounds both heartfelt and dejected in equal measure, with a dispassionate coolness that synergizes with the vulnerability of his lyrics. Live, the duo are backed by a reel-to-reel tape, with Mitchell on guitar and Lam singing, bridging their electronic past and indie present.

Sun Milk was recorded in two months, a much quicker process than the three years spent on their previous release, Flowers. The band recorded the album at the Pharmacy, Vroom’s home studio in Toronto, located above an actual pharmacy. It was the first album to be recorded after Little Kid solidified their live lineup, with Boothby, Vroom, and Germain having played together for over two years. Every song except “Like a Movie” began as a full-band live take, with overdubs performed democratically, with both Boothby and Germain layering guitars. It was also the first record to feature Lunn’s vocals, who joined the band shortly after the album’s release.

The result is a deeply affecting document of personal crisis, mirroring the dramatic changes in Boothby’s life—a breakup, living alone for the first time, beginning a new career. The lyrics have less Christian content and more personal overtones than other Little Kid records. “It was a relief when these songs came out,” says Boothby, “processing recent changes in my life, trying to take ownership of my identity and choices.” This lends a confessional warmth to the songs, a feeling of reconnecting with an old friend, sharing stories. Highlights include the off-kilter opening track “The Fourth” and the lovely, meandering “Ugly Moon.” The centerpiece of the album is “Slow Death in a Warm Bed.” A meditation on why people stay in flawed relationships, the song builds in calming repetitions until the guitars explode in the last minute, climaxing in a full-fledged distorted freakout. It’s one of the most beautiful and harrowing songs in Little Kid’s catalog.

The drifting, gentle “Dim Light Coming Down” features some of Boothby’s best lyrics. The narrator describes a person seeing “the likeness” of their own dead father “floating high above the road,” a mystical encounter rendered in the most plainspoken of terms. But Boothby quickly undercuts the moment: “But you'd been drinking when you saw him/And your mind was moving slow/Like your ears were full of cotton/So what he said you'll never know.” It’s a thwarted encounter that becomes more powerful for that very fact. Just before the song reaches its slow-building climax, Boothby sings, “Coming down/There’s a bright light/A gentle sound/Opening wide.” The transcendence does finally arrive, but it’s in the coming down, the hangover, the regular life that comes after the big moment. There's little wonder why it's become a live staple for the band.

The record is a high point in a remarkably consistent career. Looking back at Sun Milk, Boothby believes it’s one of the strongest in Little Kid’s oeuvre. “It’s probably my favorite,” says Boothby. “In general, I love slow songs, and this album is full of them. I like the structure of seven long songs—can’t think of too many albums with only seven songs. It gives the album an interesting flow.”