TomorrowS
2020 / 2021 Triple Album (City Slang)
Arriving at a time of considerable uncertainty in the world, Son Lux’s Tomorrows, a long-format album released in three volumes over the course of a year, is ambitious in scope and intent. The anxiety and urgency that define our present moment find parallels on Tomorrows, a procession from the external to the internal. Born of an active, intentional approach to shaping sound, the music reminds us of the necessity of questioning assumptions, and of sitting with the tension.
On Tomorrows, Ryan Lott, Rafiq Bhatia, and Ian Chang train their sights on volatile principles: imbalance, disruption, collision, redefinition. But for all of its instability, Tomorrows’ exploration of breaking points and sustained frictional places is ultimately in service of something rewarding and necessary: the act of challenging, tearing down, and actively rebuilding one’s own identity. “We’re peeling things apart and putting them back together throughout this record,” explains Lott. “Emotionally, relationally, and musically.”
Whereas prior Son Lux albums have been packed to the brim with ideas, the three-volume format of Tomorrows affords the music space to breathe and develop. Each release sees songs spun together with liminal instrumental spaces, resulting in a natural flow while letting sound lead in conveying the complexity of the story. While the first volume of Tomorrows sets the tone and palette, the second volume’s carefully crafted inversion acclimatizes the ear to tension. As the volumes unfold, the steadily hardening exterior fractures at unlikely moments, revealing a strikingly visceral, emotional core. The iterative process of creating finds lyrical content and music continually adapting and responding to one another and the shifting landscape of the moment. We hear this culminate on the third and final volume of Tomorrows, where Son Lux leverages this web of interconnections to reveal new layers of meaning.
Taken as a single body of work, Tomorrows represents the widest array yet of mood and color offered by the band. But on the third volume, the spectrum extends beyond the band's own limits to include a family of featured voices, including Kahdja Bonet, Holland Andrews, and Kiah Victoria. This transition signals a move from the universal and social to the personal, as Lott’s lyrics look deeper into the self while simultaneously surrendering his voice.
As much as confronting sustained instability is part of the album’s message, it is also central to the band’s creative approach: what becomes a song begins as a very intentional and deliberate process of experimentation where the end result is often entirely unknown. The band eschews genre conventions in favor of cultivating their own personal musical language rooted in balancing opposites. But on Tomorrows, they sometimes allow the scales to tip, resulting in a galvanizing internal violence that pushes songs to their limits.
Son Lux’s sound is distinctly individual, a result of their reverence for artists who have carved an iconoclastic path forward. The band’s fluid approach to genre and structure draws on the groundwork of soul, hip-hop, and experimental improvisation, owing a debt to forebears as wide-ranging as Björk, Alice Coltrane, D’Angelo, Bob Dylan, and J Dilla. While their balancing of raw emotional intimacy and meticulous electronic constructions has earned comparisons to contemporaries like James Blake and Flying Lotus, Son Lux feels that it is the act of distilling their various influences that has most strongly shaped their identity. On Tomorrows, they conjure vivid, unexpected worlds of sound, evoking textures as different as those of Timbaland and Terry Riley within the same composition.
Since starting Son Lux as a solo project, founder Ryan Lott has garnered a reputation as “the kind of songwriter who can turn the most intimate moments sweeping and majestic” (Pitchfork). But after crafting his first three albums alone, Lott stumbled upon a kinship with two musicians a decade his junior that was too strong to ignore: Ian Chang, whose rhythmic constructions “don’t feel so much like beats as sculptures” (NPR), and Rafiq Bhatia, who treats musical ingredients “as architectural elements — sound becomes contour; music becomes something to step into rather than merely follow” (New York Times). After collaboratively creating, releasing, and touring 2015’s Bones and 2018’s Brighter Wounds, Son Lux has solidified into a band, with each member bringing their unique sonic approach to create an otherworldly whole.
Accompanying the triple albums are the Tomorrows Reworks, continuing Son Lux’s longstanding practice of reinventing releases into new territory and channeling a breadth of perspectives and collaborative formats into a focused new EP. The band invited Lotic, Cavalier, Nappy Nina, Lucrecia Dalt, lojii, Jon Bap, Black Taffy, Emily Wells, and William Bell into the fold to refashion the songs in a range of ways, from traditional remixes to ground-up reimaginings.
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stands as a testament to the group’s bold embrace of experimentation in search of new ways to unlock a listener’s heart.
– The AV Club
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Their albums, especially the albums in this series, are always just such a feast of sounds and audio wonders. The care they take and the thought they put into it just radiates and roars from every track.
– NPR Music
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beams and shards of sounds in many colors, all combining to make something very mesmeric, as always.
– BBC Radio 3
Notes on a New Galaxy: Son Lux and the Journey of Tomorrows
by Mitchell L. H. Douglas
The story starts with sound: Ian, Rafiq, and Ryan solving the mystery of how to fill the air (or exist in it).
Audre Lorde knew. She taught us that a poem is an “illumination,” that the ideas floating “nameless and formless” within us breathe and walk through this textual vehicle. Certainly, music is capable of such alchemy: a sound like the poetry Lorde described that speaks to the presence of something “about to be birthed but already felt.” Sonically, Son Lux works with the same knowledge. This is art as beacon, exploration, and discovery. Charting the path, we can consider Tomorrows I the launch, Tomorrows II the journey, and Tomorrows III the arrival.
There is an unspoken commitment when an artist releases a multi-tiered project. We, the listener, enter into a personal contract to consider each installment, to hold the work to the light and wonder how one cog turns another. There is the thrill of hearing tracks reach for each other with the echo of the familiar: a repeating lyric or sound announcing itself to the galaxy. For a moment, we marvel at the audacity. Isn’t it hard enough to make one good album? You want three?
Yes. Three.
The very act of proposing a work of art in three movements suggests one is not enough to do the narrative justice and two falls just shy of completing the thought. What Son Lux has accomplished is a sonic triptych. Historically, the triptych has a storied and almost mythic place in the world of visual art. The form of three arose in the Middle Ages, a nod to the holy trinity, and found its place in Christian houses of worship. Constructed of three panels, the left and right portions were hinged to a sometimes-larger middle and, when closed, revealed additional designs on the outside. The Garden of Earthly Delights by Dutch Renaissance painter Hieronymus Bosch has fascinated us for centuries with its surreal collision of piety and sin. In 2020, British figurative painter Francis Bacon’s 1981 creation Triptych Inspired by the Oresteia of Aeschylus sold for $84.5 million in a Sotheby’s auction (if you weren’t yet convinced about how much the world loves this form). Though often associated with religious concerns, the triptych’s secular significance is no less grand: a relationship between artist, artwork, and admirer.
So how do we feel with the arrival of the centerpiece, Tomorrows III, the painting complete? Like a triptych revealing itself in a non-linear fashion, the sounds of Son Lux loop back into the body of songs built, revealing unseen splinters and fissures, planets that break, reassemble, then realign—an ever-evolving solar system. Essentially, we are now granted more than the wings of volumes I and II. The vessel they gave flight has landed.
“The Hour,” plays like the moment of touch down after leaving Earth, the new planet found. Voices that once colored the background emerge to share lead vocals, enhancing this leg of the expedition (Kadjha Bonet on “Plans We Make,” Holland Andrews on “Sever,” and Kiah Victoria on the soulful closer, “Vacancy”). In fact, you may feel the frequency of “Vacancy” hit like the tremor and jettisoned rockets of “Dissolve,” the first track on Tomorrows I. It’s a moment much like the way we witnessed “Days Past” (Tomorrows I) engage with “Prophecy” (Tomorrows II). That the confession uncovered in “Plans We Made” (“I’m not asking for release/I’m not asking to forget”) is answered and becomes a conversation with Bonet’s vocal in “Plans We Make” (“I try to finish what I never made”) is a sign that panels of I and II are still opening, closing, and asking the observer to view the work from all sides.
The Tomorrows trilogy acknowledges how small we are in the universe and creates its own. Perhaps, in the process, we become a bit louder, a bit larger—no longer without name and shape. In this new space, Son Lux makes its own rules. It couldn’t have been easy, all the more reason to listen.
Works cited:
Lorde, Audre. “Poetry Is Not a Luxury.” Sister Outsider: Essays & Speeches by Audre Lorde, The Crossing Press, 1984, p. 36
Figure on sale of Francis Bacon painting: Artnet.com