Jessy Lanza’s third album, 2020’s All the Time, traded in suggestion. The Canadian producer let fly little wisps of desire – “want / you” – on the breeze of her off-kilter, neon-hued club music in the hope that they might be reciprocated. Love Hallucination changes mode: Lanza is no longer asking but demanding orgasms, devotion and boundaries, sometimes losing herself in the gulf between desire and reality. “So frantic with no purpose,” she sings over the wonky funk of Gossamer, sounding pleasurably lightheaded in pursuit of her needs.
Lanza has credited this newfound boldness to her initially writing these songs for other artists. Yet Love Hallucination isn’t cosplay but an affirmation of Lanza’s unique ear. Her tactile heavy bass, cirrus-wisp synths and spun-sugar falsetto have deepened: the low end is diamond-hard, her playful freestyle-inspired melodies and moods glimmer like the light refracted through the gem. Don’t Leave Me Now is at once prowling and prismatic in its hi-NRG; the glimmering Drive is a study in liquid and solid. There’s pop potential (the sing-songy “you’re unkind!” chorus of Don’t Cry on My Pillow) and beguiling abstraction (Big Pink Rose swerves between petal-plucking dreaminess and breakbeat tremors).
Lanza’s humour also sets her apart. She turns the concept of stasis into the cheerleader chant Limbo; I Hate Myself is the title and endlessly repeated lyric of a track that glitters sweetly, capturing how absurdly self-loathing can become mental ambience. “Show me you can run it like a marathon,” she challenges a lover on Marathon, which breaks for a lavish sax solo that embodies her demands for slowness. Love Hallucination couldn’t be by anyone but this uniquely puckish, sensual producer.