In 1983, a man named Lewis recorded an album named L'Amour, which was released on the unknown label R.A.W. And that's about all we know.
The record itself is a delicate, whispered album, reflecting the way the artist himself – spectral, movie star-like – almost disappears into the grey of the cover. It should come as no surprise that it failed to shout loudly enough to be noticed, another private press album that sank without trace.
The ingredients are simple: smooth synthesizers, feather-light piano, ethereal, occasionally inaudible vocals and the gentle plucking of acoustic guitars. But the effects are arresting: a spine-tingling, sombre album that echoes Springsteen's Nebraska or Angelo Badalamenti's atmospheric soundtracks. Later, Arthur Russell would grasp for something similar on the epochal World Of Echo LP.
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