by Joseph Purcell

Loose Future continues Courtney Marie Andrews’ prolific run – and brings a pop hued tinge to her heartfelt, optimistic Americana

In a period of optimistic struggle, Andrews has remerged at the perfect moment. And with a record that soundtracks the daily opportunity for a fresh start. Initially born of the burgeoning desire to write a new song each day, Andrews has delivered a soundtrack of freedom, optimism and abandon – one that expertly intertwines her staples of romance and possibility through ten remarkable vignettes. Accompanied by the endless talents of Sam Evian, Josh Kaufman (Bonny Light Horseman) and Chris Bear (Grizzly Bear), Loose Future feels like the culmination of Andrews’ work to date: bringing together strands from the poignant reflection of 2017’s Honest Life, the searing isolation of 2018’s May Your Kindness Remain, and the bittersweet majesty of 2020’s Old Flowers.

Title track, Loose Future, is a flawless opening statement. Shimmering chimes abound, as if an underwater echo, crashing into Andrews’ voice, which floats along an internal lyrical monologue – heading back and forth before landing at the point of eventual realisation – ‘who am I kidding? I don’t care’.

Perhaps Andrews’ most pop charged moment, to date, arrives on the eminently engaging, Satellite. A revelatory tale of romance and joy, Andrews details the internal shoots of excitement that hit when you find the person you know you’ve always been looking for – ‘you are a satellite, orbiting around my mind … my favourite piece of the sky – you see me for who I am, more than a hologram, or a projection of your plans, more than a woman, more than a man.’

On a record of highlights, it is perhaps the closing run that stand even above all else. There is the wistful, hymnal chords of heartbreak on Let Her Go. Change My Mind is packed with a delicate lyrical uncertainty – as the warmth and calm of Andrews’ tones feel at odds with the turbulent words she emits, ‘You’ve given me no reasons not to trust you, but I keep looking for new ways to be let down’. Before the final closing chimes of Me & Jerry draw a fitting piano laden close to a record that deals with the difficulty of life, while remaining unbowed and defiantly optimistic.

If you’d like to support us by subscribing to our zine, click here – it’s just £6 a year for four copies (inc p&p).