Sometimes a review is just a review, and sometimes it’s nearly a Rorshach test.
Ivy has been in existence for roughly the same length of time as Fountains Of Wayne, the “other band” of Ivy co-founder Adam Schlesinger. In the early ’90s Schlesinger and Andy Chase started making demos, eventually convincing Chase’s girlfriend Dominique Durand, who had never sung for an audience in her life, that her ethereal, Parisian-accented vocals were a perfect fit for the late-night lounge-pop feel of the music the two multi-instrumentalists and songwriters were bringing to life.
Together, the trio issued five studio albums, commencing with 1997’s glowingly-reviewed Apartment Life and concluding—they thought—with 2011’s All Hours. Each album features its own cohesive sonic universe, with the common elements being gentle, insistent grooves, swirling electronic textures, and Durand’s breathy, supple vocals. In later years, Ivy added multi-instrumentalist Bruce Driscoll—Chase’s bandmate in his side project Brookville—in a supporting role that evolved into becoming a full band member for this release. (Ivy has never had a full-time drummer, employing session players on the select tracks that feature acoustic drums.)
As a diehard Fountains fan of more than two decades, I’ve long been aware of Ivy, but never done more than listen to a stray track here and there. The tonal contrast between Ivy’s laidback, hazy, mostly electronic chill-out music and Fountains’ manic-depressive, sharp-focus, guitar-centric power-pop could hardly be greater. Ivy’s distinctive aesthetic just never grabbed me.
And then, nine years after what Chase and Durand had assumed was Ivy’s last album (2011’s All Hours) Adam Schlesinger died, in the spring 2020 first wave of COVID.
End of story. Right?
Actually… not so fast.
It turned out that, between 1995 and 2011, Schlesinger and company had worked on many song ideas and demos that had never made it onto an Ivy album. At some point in the process of mourning their friend, Chase and Durand took a listen to the odds and ends they had accumulated over the years and realized there was enough material that was far enough along that they could assemble a new release that would truly be an Ivy album, with Schlesinger contributing on every track.
So, did I listen to this album purely out of loyalty to a man I regard as one of the finest songwriters of the past four decades? And was my assessment of it colored by nostalgia, empathy, and/or grief?
I’ll leave such judgments to you, Dear Reader; I can only report that I’ve listened to Traces Of You half a dozen times over the past few weeks, and have grown more enamored with every listen. Maybe it’s like that when a big part of what’s on offer is a singular vibe, a unique sonic environment that you either keep at arm’s length or sink into like a beanbag chair made of memory foam. This time around I got comfy quick, and only grew comfier with repeat listens.
“The Midnight Hour” kicks things off in active mode, with Schlesinger’s pulsing bass pushing steadily and Fountains’ Brian Young’s echoey acoustic drums adding dimension to one of Ivy’s more driving and lively numbers. “Fragile People” is more characteristic, with its dreamy vibe and whispery vocals anchored by Schlesinger’s gently grooving bassline, breaking down at the chanted chorus before building back up, gathering a pleasant intensity across its unhurried 5:12 runtime.
Fellow Fountains Of Wayne aficionados should take note that guitarist Jody Porter is featured on three tracks here, and drummer Young on two, making this something of a family reunion; clearly, Chase and Durand were not the only ones eager to pay tribute to their fallen comrade. Richard Curran (strings) and Eric Mathews (trumpet, guitar) also appear on multiple tracks.
“Mystery Girl” adds acoustic guitar and Motown bells for a chiming retro vibe, and then the captivating title track “Traces Of You” rides Schlesinger’s burbling, resonant bassline as Durand laments the loss of a loved one. The song feels both oblique and like a touching, ironic tribute, since this album exists precisely because traces of Adam Schlesinger persist all around us.
A pulsing house beat forms the core of “The Great Unknown,” featuring guest Joey Waronker on acoustic drums, before lead single “Say You Will” makes an entrance, both riding and playing off of Schlesinger’s funk-inflected bassline, as acoustic guitars and subtle synth accents swirl in a mesmerizing sonic dance around Durand’s ethereal lead vocal. Can a song be both subtle and magnificent? I think it can.
“Heartbreak” returns to the Motown vibe, as Young, Porter and Mathews—here joined by Marie Seyrat on harmony vocals—add their flourishes to a sparkling number once again built around Schlesinger’s pushing bassline. Then “Lose It All” returns to more typical Ivy territory, a dreamy soundscape with unexpected layers.
The closing pair feature Schlesinger in wildly different ways. The swirling “Wasting Time” moves in waltz time, acoustic guitar and electronic percussion in a steady dance, joined over time by a buoyant bassline and Schlesinger chanting the word “duotone” like a metronome. The album closes with the haunting, haunted “Hate That It’s True,” built around a Schlesinger acoustic guitar figure that’s both aching and poignant as Durand sings “I hate, hate that it’s true / There’s no goodbye when / I still love you.”
Traces Of You emerges as both a lovely album all on its own, rich with beguiling textures and emotion, and an understated yet stirring tribute to the late, great Adam Schlesinger. Subtle, smartly constructed, and heartfelt, it’s an album that celebrates Chase and Durand’s lost friend in the most loving way possible—by extending his creative life for one more shimmering, evocative, and very worthwhile album.