Twenty-four-year-old Maude Latour graduated from Columbia University with a degree in philosophy, something she’s infused into her songwriting since she started releasing music in 2019. While Latour has lived all over the world, in cities like London and Hong Kong, her heart has always lied in New York City.
Known as a hub for business, culture, and entertainment, the city has become a staple of romance and earnestness, as well as materialism and trends. Latour’s debut album, Sugar Water, tackles themes of immortality, existentialism, and nature, topics especially refreshing to see birthed in such a fast-paced, capitalistic environment.
On Sugar Water, Latour grapples with what it means to love, change, and exist in this grand universe. As she strives to find happiness, contentment, and romance, she shoots above bustling skyscrapers to the stars in the sky.
The album utilizes a mix of terrestrial and celestial imagery, which often comes across as inorganic from others but feels true to Latour’s inherent message. In the closing track, “Bloom,” she calls her lover “a scripture,” “a flower,” and “a world.” On the surface, her music might seem plagued with dead metaphors and circumlocutions, but Latour’s choice to mix her imaginative vocabulary with grounded details of her city surroundings creates an intriguing contrast that runs through the record. She’s hopping on trains, kissing in the back of taxis, and dancing on rooftops, but her mind’s stuck on the stars.
In her lead single, “Too Slow,” Latour writes about getting ready for a party with her friends—a modern and what some may deem a superficial act. But that’s the point. Everything is so fast-paced. Before she knows it, she’s at the party and then back home. The song is meant to highlight the joy in these common experiences, which we often take for granted—moments when we’re truly present and thus feel immortal.
The record takes on an electronic psychedelic sound. Mixed with Latour’s softer voice, it creates an ethereal feel. There are pulsing synths and drowsy piano melodies, all tied together with a shimmering twinkle found on songs like “7 (Interlude).” The production feels like a true ride through Latour’s vibrant fantasies, reminding listeners that despite her nihilistic thoughts, her perspective on her enigmatic existence is actually beautiful.
At some points, I felt Latour’s imaginative vocabulary was too ambiguous. She has the grounding details, but those details need a purpose. Songs like “Officially Mine” and the title track, “Sugar Water,” suffer from this. The choruses sound eccentric, designed to be shouted from a car with the sunroof down but lacking the passion and purpose that warrant it. Sometimes, the production is a bit clunky, with arrangements that, while ambitious, feel a little overpowering.
On Sugar Water, Maude Latour is eager, and her music feels energetic and heartfelt. Some of her writing and sound could be tweaked a bit, but it feels untrue to ask for something more streamlined from an artist devoted to highlighting how messy life can be in The City that Never Sleeps. If not perfect, Sugar Water is raw, showcasing how even those in the heart of the concrete jungle feel just as lost in our unfathomable universe.
Image Courtesy of Maude Latour
