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. Itโs raw, itโs 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 โรnouement,โ 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 itโs 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, โAmerican Love,โ darker, heavier, with thumping drums that sound like theyโre knocking on the walls of your chest. The guitars blaze, the singerโs husky, high, and dazed voice sounds like heโs on the verge of giving upโuntil he isnโt. 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 โButterflies and Sugar Skulls,โ the energy shifts. A smug guitar line saunters in, the drums start bustling with splashy cymbals, and thenโboomโthe vocals hit. Airy, carefree, and full of vigor, the singer sounds like heโs miles away but completely here, throwing every ounce of emotion into the track. Itโs messy, itโs loud, itโs 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