The Lightning Kids - Love on the Edge of Desire
Review by Karl Magi
Overall Album Impressions
The Lightning Kids’ “Love on the Edge of Desire” creates a fine balance between all of the contradictory and complicated emotions that fill our lives. Emma Ballantine’s unmistakable vocals, lyrics that paint beautiful word images and a musical background that wraps around everything with feeling and depth come together to weave a touching and compelling musical portrait. I find myself drawn back to the ways in which our complex nature is laid bare here.
Anchoring “Love on the Edge of Desire” is Emma Ballantine’s voice, a fine instrument that ranges across variegated emotional territory, from brokenheartedness to defiance with detours into love and passion. The way in which the lead singer is able to transform words into feelings is a crucial part of the music’s effectiveness. Her direct emotional appeal carries me into the world woven through the music and fills me with all of the sensations it creates.
Lyrically, each song delves into one of the facets of what it means to be a human being. There’s something both personal and broadly applicable in the words as they unfold. One feels not only what the songwriter experienced, but also the echo of personal memories and emotions reflected back.
The instrumental and production elements of “Love on the Edge of Desire” deepen and intensify the listener’s experience. The way in which the different instrumental elements are interwoven with the production choices creates music that is textured, rich and full of nuanced sound palettes. I enjoy the attention to detail that Jonny Spalding, Bryan Skeel, Kidburn and Darryn McHardie have put into each song because it adds to the impact of the whole package.
My Favourite Songs Analyzed
“Youth” comes to life as a soft voice whispers “wake up” and smoothly gliding, gentle synth washes in waves through the music. Emma Ballantine’s deeply felt vocals move, carrying a tender and dreamy melody as resonant drums rebound below the hazily flowing background woven by Jonny Spalding.
Drums and bass create an accelerative pulse as Darryn McHardie’s guitar notes entangle and rounded, medium-high synth carries an encouraging melody. The chorus is rapidly chanted, jumping in sharp bursts before the strumming guitar flashes. The low end drives on below Emma Ballantine’s expressive vocals carrying a soothing melody.
The chanting, rushing chorus is accented with flashing light. A sax unwinds in a touching, energizing melody. The vocals are hopeful and full of possibility while Darryn McHardie’s guitar solo cries out with emotive strength and the track ends on Emma Ballantine’s voice.
Sometimes in life, we need to let go of what’s been holding us back and seize an opportunity. Our narrator speculates that she and the song’s subject may be young and crazy heading down the freeway as they run away together. She goes on to say that they may be lost and foolish and “I’m gonna prove it, running away from you.”
The storyteller says she’s been “playing the good girl” and denying herself. She has felt out of her heart and lost within her own head. Like someone “half dead” she just said what the world expected of her. Now she just wants to kick off her shoes and run away with nothing to lose.
She concludes that “Maybe it’s youth, maybe it’s danger, dancing with strangers. Running away with you.”
Emma Ballantine starts by saying “I’ll wait for you,” and the glittering galaxy of synth flickers to open “Wait.” The vocals touch with grace as the heavily undulating foundation drives forward. The melody is a dream of aching hope as the synth flares with cosmic brilliance and the drums rebound. The underpinnings have a rich depth as trickling notes run past like drops of moonlight.
Jonny Spalding illuminates the entire track with the glow of night light as Emma Ballantine captures me with her heartbreaking expression while the synth gleams like street lights in the night. The low end glides while Darryn McHardie’s guitar rises in a haunting refrain, complementing the tremulous vocals. The drums continue to guide while the chorus wraps around me like a veil of shadow and the tiny motes of twinkling starlight fade out.
As the song begins, the storyteller is standing outside the song's subject's house, but the lights are off and she’s “dancing in the dark, alone.” She can’t deny that in her mind it’s a lie, but “I’ll pretend that you’re here, by my side,” as she waits all night for the other person because “there’s nothing else to do.”
She doesn’t know where the song’s subject is, but she imagines them driving in their car as “in the darkest hour, I call to you.” She’s started spending time with the other person’s friends and “sleepwalking.” She realizes she won’t be seeing them and “as the night passes,” she’s been so alone, searching for signs of the other person.
“Boys” opens as Darryn McHardie’s freely glistening guitar joins dreamy synth and a hard-hitting rhythm. Chord changes contribute a sun-dappled feeling as the beat erupts and Emma Ballantine’s silvered voice carries a nostalgically affecting melody. The guitar flickers with laid-back sensation while her soft vocals express memory with clarity.
The low end pattern adds shape as the track’s luscious production deepens the emotion, Kidburn and Jonny Spalding weaving their auditory magic. Darryn McHardie’s guitar spills into a solo that transmits joy recollected, lambent with memory, while the drums pound and the vocals float with exuberant ease. Darryn McHardie’s guitar drifts out with freedom and positivity before the song ends on firefly-like flickers.
The narrator confidently announces, “I love the boys, even the mistakes,” embracing every high and heartache. If she closes her eyes and counts to three, she says, “I’m 17, I’m in Los Angeles, talking to boys, the troublemakers.”
She’ll never forget the way the song’s subject looked when he gazed at her. “I don’t regret it,” she insists. She recalls being 17, dancing with all of the boys: “We were so young, our heads were headstrong.” The music was on and it was their song.
A tangled guitar and growling bass move to begin “Lost.” The guitar cuts with clean brightness, shining with aspiration as the pounding rhythm supports Emma Ballantine’s levitating vocals as they carry the caressing melodic line. The spoken-word part echoes and the glimmering tones flare like distant light on the horizon’s edge. Hopeful energy fills the vocals as they soar with the chorus.
Emma Ballantine’s touching vocals are joined by Bryan Skeel’s charging foundation, as Darryn McHardie’s guitar glows with tranquil luminosity. Emma Ballantine’s voice fills me with intensely engaging emotion as the shining notes mingle and leap with irrepressible dynamism. As the song ends, the radiant sounds fade into quiet.
To get the other person off her mind, our storyteller says, “I took the highway out to the edge of town.” As she drives in the dark, she admits that it’s been a long way without the other person. “There was darkness in this house. Was it love on the edge of desire?” and she had to look for answers because she lost herself with the song’s subject in America.
“I cried for help, I needed a miracle,” because the narrator thought they had everything as they were “dancing in the dark on the stereo.” She realized that she was somebody else and she had to find herself. She concludes, “I learned to run back when I was young, I covered up my tracks and never looked back.”
“I’m On Fire” comes to life as the guitar strums with gentle chords and the vocals match the folksy style. Emma Ballantine’s voice perfectly captures the feeling of Bruce Springsteen’s lyrics and provides a charming contrast to the more synthesized aspects of the album. Darryn McHardie weaves the story with his fingers, carrying it out with a sense of classic energy that enfolds me with its spirit and Jonny Spalding deepens that energy.
Emma Ballantine’s voice might be tender, but the trembling need in her voice is undeniable, while the simple guitar background intertwines with a pleasantly organic feeling. The hushed vocals carry out and a synth ripples in the distance, while the guitar and the sound of a train running down the tracks create an Americana dream before the song ends.
As the song starts, the narrator asks, “Hey, little girl, is your daddy home? Did he go away and leave you all alone?” She has a bad desire and she’s on fire. She goes on to ask, “Tell me now, baby, is he good to you and can he do to you the things that I do?” while she says, “Oh no, I can take you higher!”
“Sometimes it’s like someone took a knife, baby, edgy and dull and cut a six-inch valley through the middle of my skull,” as she wakes up at night with soaking sheets, along with “a freight train running through the middle of my head,” because only the song’s subject can “cool my desire.”
“Lights Out” begins as rain pours down, Darryn McHardie’s guitar chimes with luminescent chords and a heavy drum thudding into life. Emma Ballantine’s voice reverberates with brokenhearted melancholy as the guitar spills out brightness and the drums strike hard. Jonny Spalding’s melody is full of sadness and approaching loss, while Darryn McHardie’s guitar becomes a weeping, gentle presence.
I enjoy the spoken-word performance that adds to the reminiscence and dreamlike sensation before the saxophone fills the music, rich and full of vibrant life. Emma Ballantine mixes all of the complicated emotion within the words, veering between love and bereft emptiness. The guitar glides with echoing expression as the rhythmic pulse goes on. A synth hums like an organ before silence falls.
Things didn’t work out the way that the storyteller and the song’s subject had hoped. “Lost in the hurt, we were all alone,” and she thinks that “the game is up until the lights go down.” She wants the other person to “take me driving through the night then, when the lights go out.”
With broken hearts, she asks the other person to hold her closer as the lights go out. “I like the night in your car,” and she sleeps all day until darkness falls. “I like the rain under the lights” as the song’s subject speeds off into the night.
The sound of a radio tuning commences “Radio” as solid drums pulsate and airy notes float. The bass undulates as Emma Ballantine’s breathily emotive voice drifts out with a wistful, reminiscing melody and the snare drums sharpen the beat. Emma Ballantine’s voice is smooth and captures longing and loss as the guitar shines.
Bryan Skeel’s production ties it all together. As the chorus climbs upward, the drums erupt and Darryn McHardie’s guitar sings with depth and gripping feeling while the bass undulates. The huge drums burst as Emma Ballantine takes hold of my feelings and carries me along with lyrics that express such painful emotion.
The synth glows with luminous warmth as the sax flies into the music with soulful energy above the steady drumbeat. The vocals levitate freely despite the ache within the words. Drums flourish as the bass continues to pulse, while the chorus unfurls with touching emotion before the track comes to an end.
It's a Friday night in New Mexico and the storyteller is “all dressed up, no place to go.” The song’s subject is with their friend and she’s all alone, waiting by the telephone. She says, “I play the beat, move my feet, dancing slow,” as she sings along to the radio with the songs they used to know, adding, “I hope she's really pretty though.”
Our narrator asks the song subject, “Is she at your house? Is she there again?” It’s midnight now and she wonders if the other person's phone is still dead. She adds, “I won't cry for you, I won't let it show,” as she sings sad songs on the radio.
Now the storyteller remembers “all of those nights, all of these tears,” recalling driving in the song subject's car and listening to the radio. She speaks of “all of those mornings on the bathroom floor. I wanted you, but I wanted more.”
As the song concludes, our narrator talks about feeling the beat, taking the heat and dancing slowly. She says, “Close my eyes, turn the dial, take control.”
“Run” opens as a soft wind rustles and a voiceover drifts past while Emma Ballantine’s haunting voice whispers above a trickling background. The low end pulse adds form as her bittersweet performance carries the reminiscence and disconnection within the words. Jonny Spalding’s background production glows like a city in the desert night while Emma Ballantine captures bereft emotion, remembering what she shared with the other person in the song.
The drums are heavy as Darryn McHardie’s guitar adds an acoustic touch and the vocals drive the message deep into my heart. The guitar contrasts with the synth elements to create balance while the beat presses on. The vocals soar with the chorus, brushing like a quiet breeze across desert sand. Tiny stars of synth glitter while the guitar tangles with clean light. Emma Ballantine holds the balance between hope and hurt perfectly as the song comes to a worshipful end.
As the storyteller says, “This is my number, this is my new address,” she asks the song’s subject to call her when they land. She’ll wait for them until they disappear, adding, “It hurts when you look back like that, a physical pain.” She’s kept all of those days in her memory, packing each moment away. She goes on to say that “the summer is over and I am holding on tight to that high.”
Now it’s time for “the comedown… the aftersun,” and the pain in her side as she’s out of breath when all the dancing is finished. It’s time for her to say goodbye and to promise that “I won’t be the same when you’re gone, after midnight we both have to run.” The song’s subject is two hours ahead of her, so they’ll be asleep at this point. Despite the distance, the narrator says, “I feel you somehow.”
The song’s subject’s voice is “a flickering flame, keeping our love alight.” They laugh together talking on the phone, but the narrator cries when she’s alone again. In conclusion, she says, “All this time I’ve been fooling myself.”
Conclusion
“Love on the Edge of Desire” transports me into the emotional world the band creates. I enjoy the way each of these talented individuals comes together to form a cohesive sound that carries me away with all of the feeling and expressiveness they weave.
