First Impressions: Theo by Luke De-Sciscio / September 26, 2024 / by Jeff Gemmill / original
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It’s said that the music of our teens and early 20s doesn’t just stick with us but plays an outsized role throughout our lives. The reason? The neural links it forms with major life events. Certain songs evoke specific memories, from a first kiss to a special school dance to—and this is where things sound weird but aren’t—the death of a loved one, often a beloved grandparent but sometimes a parent or sibling. Our personal histories are littered with music that makes the good times better and bad times a little less so, in other words. It’s the main reason why every generation since the dawn of recorded media heralds a lot of pedestrian pop, rock, R&B and country as the best ever; people confuse the memories and feelings the songs engender in them for their importance.
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Strange way to start a review, huh?
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To expand upon that “neural link” thesis for a moment: I’d argue it’s not just the songs that embed themselves in our memories, but the style of said songs, too. Many if not all of the artists I feature in these pages, for instance, conjure my favorites from long ago. Likewise, it’s not uncommon for me to reference my days spinning folk records on Penn State’s college radio station in the mid-1980s when discussing certain new releases. Many an oft-earnest singer-songwriter echoes the oft-earnest (and mostly unknown) troubadours I first heard via the Fast Folk compilations I played, not to mention the many emotive folkies who got their start on the coffeehouse circuit.
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Though UK-based folkie Luke De-Sciscio is new to me, he’s far from “new’’—Theo is his 17th full-length album. Listening to it this morning, I realized that one reason why it’s connected with me over the past few weeks is the simple manner in which it was recorded: It’s just him, guitar and microphone. The starkness means there’s nothing to hide behind; orchestral syrup and/or a slew of voices aren’t here to sweeten a melody or cover for a weak rhyme—not that these 11 tracks are in need of either.
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His voice is a remarkable instrument that trembles high one moment and glides low the next, while the lyrics center on his first child and all that she represents. The songs were written and recorded within the first six weeks of her life, from reflecting his awe at the miracle of birth to the realization that she’s part him and part her mother. The album opens with “Two Headed Shadow,” about her birth: “You were born behind a curtain/Yves Klein blue/And we focused on each other/Whilst they rummaged for you/And when you were exhumed/We heard you sing the blues/I’ve got a good mind to live for you.”
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Though somewhat low-key, the songs aren’t tension-free. “Spinning,” for example, finds an old memory unfurling as if to remind him who he was and who he, now a father, no longer wants to be: “And you, you were/You were who I was/When my reflection broke down in the mirror/Sobbing up my guts like I was trying to get the past out.”
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The closing “For the Poems” is another standout, with the plucked strings of his acoustic mimicking a gentle heartbeat while he shares his hope that his daughter “never learns to be ashamed/Keeps her whole heart full of flames/Doesn’t let herself be tamed/Isn’t scared to seem insane.” It’s a dream for all children, really, if you think about it.
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Throughout, De-Sciscio reminds me of the folksingers who played an oversized role in my life. Not everyone appreciates what, at first brush, seem to be simple songs—in large part, I think, because they have to listen to the lyrics. But if you take the time with Theo, I think you’ll find that it encapsulates life’s joys and fears in poetic fashion.
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