This post was updated Aug. 24 at 3:23 p.m.
Laufey has worked out what makes love tick.
Following the success of the 2023 Grammy Award-winning album “Bewitched,” the Icelandic-Chinese singer-songwriter released her heartfelt third studio album, “A Matter of Time,” on Aug. 22. Featuring 14 poignantly raw songs, the record is Laufey’s most sonically adventurous, alternating between her signature swoon-worthy jazz instrumentals to acoustic pop guitar and rustic folk charm. Laufey, the mononymous name of 26-year-old Laufey Lín Bing Jónsdóttir, became popular on social media after the release of her 2022 LP “Everything I Know About Love,” was praised for its rose-tinted dive into hopeless romanticism. Three years later, “A Matter of Time” melds Laufey’s past romantic self with newfound cynicism, unflinchingly illuminating the rage and anxieties of love. At times jaded and at others whimsical, Laufey’s new album wonderfully expands the scope of her sound, at the expense of sacrificing some sonic cohesion.
Of all of Laufey’s albums, “A Matter of Time” is best listened to in chronological order, beginning with classical ballads and ending with a raw dissection of heartbreak and melancholy. With an intensity not seen in her previous work, the album interrogates the question of identity, yet not without losing the sense of childlike wonder haunting the sonic narrative. “A Matter of Time” beautifully captures the crossroads of leaving one’s youth behind – with melodic callbacks to “Bewitched” – as Laufey’s sonorous, blissful vocals untangle the bittersweet reckonings of the self.
Opening song “Clockwork” lies squarely within Laufey’s comfort zone: fusing the old with the new in its catchy jazz composition and modern lyricism. The artist’s voice is at its richest here as she croons, “And nothing brings me fear like meeting with my destiny / But like clockwork, think he fell in love with me.” The chiming “ding-dong” background vocals at the beginning and end of the song enhance its fairytale atmosphere, providing a welcoming contrast against the heavier metronome bassline.
These belty vocals and mellow instrumentals pick up into the upbeat, bubbly bossa nova of “Lover Girl.” The quintessential retro-pop style is similar to her 2023 song “From The Start,” with playful lyrics such as, “I’m in a reckless fever / Love-struck girl, I’d tease her / Thought I’d never be her / Quite the job you’ve done on me, sir.” Light, rhythmic claps interspersed after the chorus added a romantic charm to the warm orchestral atmosphere, overall elevating its sonic diversity. As one of the album’s dreamier songs, “Lover Girl” is a strong contender for another timeless Laufey hit, likely a reason for its earlier release as a single.
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“Snow White,” also a single, slows the narrative down as the singer reveals an intimate meditation on societal beauty standards. The whispery words, “I don’t think I’m pretty, it’s not up for debate / A woman’s best currency’s her body, not her brain,” sound vulnerable against the quieter, stripped-back instrumentation. Without the grandeur or fantasy of the previous tracks, “Snow White” marks a shift away from the storybook heroine persona in Laufey’s other works, introducing a more nuanced and mature perspective.
Laufey continues to break new ground in “Castle in Hollywood” and “Carousel,” with both exploring refreshing avenues in the pop and classical genres. With strummy guitar and a pop-leaning melody, “Castle in Hollywood” is a welcome change in the artist’s discography – despite its lackluster harmonic composition when considered as a standalone. The cyclical waltz in “Carousel” transports the listener to an imaginary circus as Laufey sings about the self-doubt behind loving someone. Although the song’s soft, floating vocals are unique when compared to the album’s more intense tracks, the lack of variety in instrumentation builds a sense of monotony.
“Too Little, Too Late” suffers from a similar melodically stagnant chorus as Laufey chants, “You asked me how I’ve been / But how do I begin / To tell you I should’ve chased / You ‘cross every single state?” The breakup anthem is the only Laufey song to be written from a male perspective, culminating in the speaker’s lover marrying someone else. The song’s strongest point is in this marriage outro, when the background cello echoes the melody of “Bewitched,” juxtaposing Laufey’s new themes of heartbreak with the idealism of her previous album.
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Although not as sonically enriching as the other songs, the repeating sugary guitar of lead single “Silver Lining” heightens the dream-filled realm of Laufey’s imagination, as the singer discovers her own inner child while falling in love. More emotionally resonant than this ballad, however, is the humble “Forget-Me-Not,” a nostalgic love letter to Iceland. With beautiful orchestral accompaniment from the Iceland Symphony Orchestra, the singer writes lyrics in her native language for the first time: “Gleymdu mér aldrei þó ég héðan flýg / Gleymdu mér aldrei, elskan mín,” translating to “Never forget me even if I run away / Never forget me, my love.”
“Tough Luck” ramps up the tempo after the teary “Forget-Me-Not,” with an invigorating blend of breathy vocals and passionate belting, alongside catchy pop rhythms with unexpected orchestral flourishes. The song’s adept integration of different sonic elements shows Laufey’s success at expanding beyond her jazz-infused beginnings. At the climax of the song’s buildup, Laufey unleashes the full power of her voice, reminiscent of the outro from 2024 single “Goddess.”
The snarky bossa pop in “Mr. Eclectic” pokes fun at an ex-lover in a similar way to the cheeky anger in “Tough Luck.” Alongside the country-inspired “Clean Air,” the two songs are among Laufey’s most sonically interesting, with unique harmonies and a rugged sound that contrasts pleasantly with her signature lovesick ballads.
The shockingly intimate “Sabotage” closes off the album on a dissonant note, as Laufey delicately sings, “It’s just a matter of time ‘til you see the dagger / It’s a special of mine to cause disaster.” The track opens and ends with a sudden haphazard whirlwind of cello and static: an intense sound whose fearful effect mirrors the song’s themes of anxiety. Although some may say the instrumental storm clashes with the song’s quiet vocals, its unabashed noisiness is an apt portrayal of the darkness that can lurk beneath identity and romance, as Laufey embraces her insecurities as honestly as she does her strengths.
With its messily romantic allure, it is only “A Matter of Time” until listeners find themselves, like “Clockwork,” back at the album’s start.
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