Dream Lights, Dream Beautiful: “Tiny Break of Light” by Blu:m Single Review
Photo Courtesy of Pillar Artists Management/Blu:m
If I could summarize indie dream rock in one word, I suppose it would be aesthetic. It’s soft lighting, soft blankets, comforting hues of rose gold mixed with royal blue…tiny breaks of light as the sun peeks through the dark. While dream pop usually makes me think of the evening, I recently heard a song that evokes that strange liminal space that comes from being awake at the break of dawn: “Tiny Break of Light” by Blu:m.
You’d think that the feeling that comes from rising early would primarily be ‘exhaustion’, and I suppose that, as a night owl, I’m biased. I’ve always seen this as a chore, an unpleasant necessity that I’d rather avoid. Rising with the sun is usually paired with rising to go to work, to school, the beginning of the daily grind. However, Blu:m does something quite beautiful with “Tiny Break of Light”: they turn it into an opportunity to grow.
Everything about this song evokes a strange mix of peace with oneself and anticipation of change, of the dawn, and the subsequent new day that follows. Have you ever had the kind of conversation with friends where you stay up late airing grievances to each other, perhaps in their backyard, sitting at a glass table? Have you ever had a late-night tryst that resulted in a sort of peace? There’s a finality to these kinds of things that are best represented by a tiny break of light. Moments of change always take on a quiet but powerful significance when you wake up early and experience the sunrise all by yourself, overwhelmed by the quiet gravitas of it all.
But of course, “Tiny Break of Light” isn’t quite dream pop. There’s an edge to it that gives it a sort of smirk, a hint of naughtiness. The vocals convey a sort of tongue-in-cheek view of love, of the future, and the present. It’s a last dalliance before the dawn “opens its eyes/changes the tide.” Perhaps the change is permanent, perhaps it isn’t. But the dawn will come nonetheless, and with it the peace that comes from watching a sunrise.
The beautiful vocals by Rebecca Meyer are both ethereal and raw. It’s a wonderful thing when an artist is able to evoke the exact feeling of evening, where consciousness and dream meld into a fluid and haunting liminal space. It’s even more impressive when an artist can switch seamlessly into a more conscious world, the one with the edge, the playfulness and sensuality that comes with a late night. It’s harmonious and results in a song that takes the listener out of themselves. But of course, without the wonderful instrumentation, this wouldn’t be complete. The slow snaps, coupled with the slow strumming of a fuzzy guitar, lull you into a dreamlike state, only to wake you up by the chorus. Franco Lacan truly transports you when he plays.
This London-based Anglo-Franco indie-dream rock band is destined to take root in your imagination. Let them bloom.