What I’m Listening To…‘Look for your Mind!’ by The Lemon Twigs

The first time I came across the music of the Lemon Twigs, back in 2016, their single ‘I Wanna Prove to You’ flung me back in time. The music was like a resurrected 60s hit, perhaps by the Byrds, and it was hard to see how the band’s appropriation and faithful reproduction of this style could have any mileage beyond its initial cutesy novelty. Ten years later and the Lemon Twigs have released their sixth studio album and garnered wide critical approval for their retro love songs. Now, as their sincere, disciplined throwback music evolves conservatively, their open-hearted tunes—a happy marriage of the Beatles and the Beach Boys—still manage to worm their way into our ears. 

In their latest offering—‘Look for your Mind!’—the Long Island brothers Brian and Michael D’Addario once again channel the innocent love songs and harmonies of the 1960s in a way that avoids straight imitation. The tracks on this album will often contain a slightly rougher edge than their stylistic ancestors, with the music coming across as mildly filtered through the intervening decades. The album is self-aware and subtle, despite the surface resemblance to the music that inspired it. 

The solid opener, ‘Look For Your Mind’ is Kinks-like with strong lyrics: “And in the greenest field, you’ll find out where you are / Is but a cage with golden bars”. Like other tracks here, it’s just the right length, mirroring the economy of the 60s and showing that while a good melody is important, it’s just as vital to know when it needs to end. 

Feelings of intellectual inadequacy dominate ‘2 or 3’, a thoughtful and complex song with a half-joking falsetto that elevates this band above the mindless pop that fills so much contemporary life. 

‘Nothin’ But You’, although weaker and a bit samey after last two, is redeemed by its extended coda with some intriguing guitar work and harmonies. ‘Gather Round’ is also at a level below the brothers’ usual standard.

With ‘I Just Can’t Get Over Losing You’, which comes in at just over two minutes, the Lemon Twigs have crafted music that sounds like it’s been part of the established body of songs for decades. It’s music that is curiously timeless because it is so definitely not of our time, so perfect is the illusion of having magically emerged in 1966 in California at a Beach Boys jam. 

In ‘Fire and Gold’ I caught whiffs of the Lemonheads, another band that also looked to the golden past of the 60s and 70s. ‘Mean to Me’, a sad ballad dripping with pathos that avoids sentimental mulch, shows the brothers in reflective mode.

The early albums Beatles at their most rock-like are the inspiration for ‘Bring You Down’ with its contemporary reference to the threat of AI: “They’re going to take my job and give it to a metal machine.” This is a toe-tappingly good track.

The next two, ‘Yeah I Do’ and ‘I Hurt You’ are less distinctive but things return to their usual quality with the gorgeous harmonies of ‘You’re Still My Girl’, a musically flawless piece; think Beach Boys but with more bite. How is it possible for such immediately catchy  love songs to emerge in this scurvy world? 

The restrained but effective ‘Joy’, a ballad with woodwinds and strings, has a change of gear half way through that sounds a bit like the Hovis advert and ‘My Heart is in Your Hands Tonight’ is another winner with its sumptuous backing vocals. 

The album ends on a deeper, more psychedelic note with ‘Your True Enemy’—a weighty track packed with psychological insight and a compelling fade ending.

We criticise bands when they are derivative or don't change their style album after album, when they merely pull out songs from a limited bag of tricks. We also lambast them when they try something new and uncharacteristic, when they dabble with genres alien to their constitution. Several albums into any band’s discography, we just don’t know what we want: dull continuity or unwelcome change? This problem doesn’t really arise with the Lemon Twigs—although our capacity to connect with their songs about love and end of love seems to depend on our living in different, less cynical times, their latest album is the pure escapism we crave. The music has an endearingly naive quality and, with its innocent yearning, it remains a world away—and miles better—than most mainstream pop. Continuity, for them, is never dull but intelligently based on music that has stood the test of time. 

In their way, the D’Addario brothers are ploughing away at their own revolutionary furrow with music that does not care if it might strike some as unfashionable or retrograde. Paradoxically, by repeating a decades-old recipe, they’re doing something radically new. Their well-constructed power pop—whimsical and heartfelt—deserves to win over new listeners.

About this series: In this series, we’re going to live with an album for a week. I’ll listen to it on repeat as I walk up town, do shopping and wait for my daughter. I’ll let it all sink in so it becomes the soundtrack of my days…and then I’ll write about it. Expect variety: I’m passionate about classical and jazz but will also be revisiting my favourite albums from the last 50 years from the Doors to Suede and even new releases. Hopefully, with affordable streaming services, you’ll do the same and encounter unfamiliar music you will grow to love, or disagree with, or simply ignore.