Vinyl LP, Compact Disc (CD)
Armlock is the newest iteration of the long-running creative partnership between Melbourne artists Simon Lam and Hamish Mitchell, who met while in school for jazz and started working on electronic music together primarily because it was cheaper to make with more portable instruments than guitars and drums. They were two-thirds of the ethereal IDM trio I’lls before splitting off to make bass-y, sample-heavy dance in Couture. (Lam also featured in the electro-pop duo Kllo and made contemplative solo music as Nearly Oratorio, while Mitchell ventured into graphic art and design). But Armlock is the first time, at least since they dropped out of that jazz course, that the pair have worked together with physical instruments.
The seven-track, 18-minute Seashell Angel Lucky Charm follows their similarly brief 2021 debut Trust. As on that record, the influence of the duo’s electronic backgrounds is ever present, even though synths are used very rarely and drum machines never. Instead, it’s found in the hypnotic way the songs unfold. The instrumental parts usually consist of a patiently repeating phrase on clean or acoustic guitar or bass, and Lam’s singing approach favors drawn-out, monotone phrases. As with most dance music, a steady bedrock allows the introduction and removal of elements to subtly shape the songs. Opening track “Ice Cold” demonstrates this well. It sits on a simple repeating bassline yet subtle guitar picking and harmonies are enough to create a moody gravity. That the instrumentation is unassuming makes its moments of tension—that brief pause before the verse resumes, for instance—all the more rewarding.
Accordingly, Armlock leverage this carefully layered approach to bolster the lyrics’ emotional weight. On “Guardian,” Lam expresses chidlike wonder (“I stretch my hand to see the tendons/ I run a bath just to watch it flow in”) over delicately placed piano plinks and softly interlacing backing vocals; once again, the constant, hypnotic drive in the bass, drums, and lead vocals provides a base from which tender feelings sprout. In “Fear,” a sort of tentative hope is almost massaged into the song as Lam gently rocks the title word back and forth, harmonies building around him. Consider the closing track “Fair,” which eschews the layered instrumental that flourishes elsewhere for a kind of naked minimalism, all acoustic guitar strums and somber, static vocals. The song sketches a moment of painful surrender with gentle, ascendant harmonies hinting at acceptance. Indeed, there’s a deliberateness to everything you hear in Armlock’s music, a sense that it’s been pored over and ruthlessly curated. Yet paradoxically, the effect is to allow emotion to flow naturally, creating space for the listener to navigate their personal headspace.
