It had been a rough winter. Global politics swung with the same volatility as the weather outside—unpredictable, unrelenting, and sometimes disconcerting. Cold, dark days had felt endless, as if the world had settled into a permanent sepia haze, with no sign of spring and the inevitable feeling of hope that it carried. Then, in the last two weeks, without warning, colour crept back in. Light seeped through unseen cracks, illuminating crevices of possibility. Spring arrived in magnificent fashion. The days grew longer, the air lighter, and with them came something else—something new, something awakening.
Enter The Vault by Lucy Wroe.
London-based artist Wroe has an innate ability to craft a sound that refuses to be boxed in, drawing from the eclectic influences of Charli XCX, Radiohead, Kate Bush, and Caroline Polachek. Her musical evolution is evident in her ever-growing discography, from the introspective mellow-pop of Same World (2022) to the sleek, electronic textures of WAVES (2023). Wroe exudes this idea of restless creativity, as she confidently navigates between mainstream pop’s accessibility and the avant-garde’s unpredictability.
Whilst navigating her own sonic explorations, it is clear to see that Wroe has also become an outspoken advocate for unsigned artists, offering an unwavering challenge to notions of industry norms which often leave independent musicians behind. Her latest release, The Vault marks both a culmination of a transformative chapter and a statement of intent.
Produced in collaboration with Philipp Koerver, The Vault blends a dynamic and intricate palette of sounds, balancing conventional pop instrumentation and melody with a more obscure and unpredictable structure. Some notes land unexpectedly, contributing to a textured sound that reflects Wroe’s commitment to challenging conventions and industry expectations, mirroring her personal journey of artistic defiance. The Vault feels warm and reassuring, with her delicate vocals blending into the rounded edges of soft synth chords and low-pass EQ drum filters. This is something that can be heard throughout Wroe’s discography, her vocals always feeling clear and soothing.
One powerful aspect of The Vault is how it allows for an eye-of-the-beholder (or in this case ear-of-the-beholder) positionality, letting the listener interpret the tonality of the song in their own individual way. The structure of The Vault traverses various musical terrains without ever feeling disjointed, a testament to both Wroe and Koerver’s careful musical craftsmanship. There’s an ebb and flow to The Vault, the verses feel intimate and hushed, the pre-chorus feeling pensive, a prelude to something bigger, then the chorus swells into this grand concoction of vocal and instrumental syncopation, an homage to the grandiosity of Caroline Polachek’s anthemic verses, a notable influence to Wroe’s work. Another parallel to be drawn between Polacheck and Wroe is the always present, immense display of vocal control.
The balance between warmth and unpredictability in The Vault makes for an exciting listen, and I find that with each replay, there is something new to discover. Whether experienced as a comforting embrace or an introspective unravelling, The Vault equips us, the listener, with the agency to find our own meaning within its layered and expansive sonic space.
So, just as the flowers begin to bloom in the soft light of Spring, Wroe’s music flourishes once more. Her latest release emanates the same hopeful energy of the season within which it has emerged, and my excitement grows with the hope that she will continue to provide beautifully crafted songs like The Vault.
Listen to The Vault here:
https://open.spotify.com/track/5XxCxobf8lc4nwNciQ1Dv0?si=77b0883f2e92499d
