I have a love/hate relationship with pop music. I hate how manufactured and corporate it is. I hate how producers process the music within an inch of its life. I hate that chair thing that the Backstreet Boys used to do. As much as I hate the trappings of modern pop music, there are few things I love more than a soaring chorus and a gigantic hook. Pop stars come and go, but a good hook is timeless.
“Saviour,” the first single from Lights’ debut album, The Listening, is the most perfect pop song I’ve heard this year. It’s a charming piece of electro pop that sounds like it could have come out during the second British Invasion of the early 1980s. “Saviour” doesn’t bludgeon you with the hook right away. It starts with a cloying synthesizer riff and Lights’ high pitched voice. It’s pleasant, but nothing to write home about…and then the chorus. Oh my god the chorus. Everything comes into focus. The synthesizer gets louder and the notes get longer. Lights stops chirping and starts longing. Her voice moves with the notes on her synthesizer. She’s no longer singing on top of the music, she becomes a part of it.
When the song ended, I played it again. I played it fifteen times in a row, and I still wanted more. I anticipated the break between the verse and the chorus, waiting for it to become tedious. I got the same dizzy rush every single time. When she sings the first line (“I just wanna run to youuuuu”), she escapes the relatively narrow constraints of electro-pop. Like all great pop music, “Saviour” makes you feel good in the moment.
It was a smart decision to make “Saviour” the opening track, because it instantly grabs your attention. At the same time, it might have been a mistake. After “Saviour,” Lights struggles to keep the momentum. Most pop albums trail off toward the end, but because “Saviour” is such a standout moment, it happens a lot faster. Lights’ voice is perfect for her music, but it’s exactly the same for every song. The childish chirp is a big part of her charm, but it grates after a while. She can’t be that coy all the time.
Despite the shortcomings, The Listening is refreshingly slight. Mariah Carey’s last album weighed in at 19 tracks. The Listening weighs in at thirteen, with nothing under four minutes. There are virtually no indulgences, except for the reprise of “Pretend.” The reprise is unnecessary, but interesting. “Pretend” initially appears in the middle of the album as a basic synth-pop ballad. The reprise consists of nothing but Lights and her piano. If she had put the acoustic version in the middle, it would have been a nice reprieve from all the synthesizers.
The Listening is a decent debut with one stellar moment. I’ve always put a lot of emphasis on the album as an art form, but I occasionally have to question my belief. “Saviour” is a reminder that a single can be just as vital as an entire album.