American Love by Ivy League is like opening an old photo album only to realize some of the pictures have been burned at the edges. But instead of throwing them away, you frame them in gold. It’s raw, it’s gritty, and it leans into the idea that scars shape us. This record has been a decade in the making, and you can hear every ounce of history in its bones.
It kicks off with “Énouement,” a slow burn more than a minute long, ambience that feels like waking up in a dream. A distant, echoing voice hovers over an atmosphere so calm it’s almost eerie, before melodic, gritty guitars come crawling in and the drums start pounding, slow but deliberate, like a heartbeat gaining momentum.
Then comes the title track, “American Love,” darker, heavier, with thumping drums that sound like they’re knocking on the walls of your chest. The guitars blaze, the singer’s husky, high, and dazed voice sounds like he’s on the verge of giving up—until he isn’t. The transition from dry, defeated murmurs to soaring highs feels like catharsis, like an exhale after holding your breath for too long.
By the time we hit “Butterflies and Sugar Skulls,” the energy shifts. A smug guitar line saunters in, the drums start bustling with splashy cymbals, and then—boom—the vocals hit. Airy, carefree, and full of vigor, the singer sounds like he’s miles away but completely here, throwing every ounce of emotion into the track. It’s messy, it’s loud, it’s alive.
American Love is an album that lingers in the best way, stitching together the past with gold and daring you to do the same.
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Review by: Naomi Joan