George Lewis Jr. brandishes love like a jackhammer, and he expects the same in return. “Drill me to the floor,” the singer begs over a digitized Caribbean groove on “Old Love/New Love.” “Release, resist/hold back, then kiss,” he commands on the stutter-stepping slow-jam “Eclipse.” Heartbreak and sex and yearning twisted in a knot—it’s familiar subject matter for indie rock’s New Romantic torchbearer. But on his third LP, Lewis Jr. illuminates his words with newfound focus—stripping away any hint of excess. Take “Flatliners,” a gothic New Wave epic that straddles the slippery tightrope of love and lust; the
minimalist, split-screen melancholy of “Alone;” or “When the Lights Turn Out,” an orchestral synth-pop land mine that blurs the line between “jealousy and ecstasy.” With each album, Lewis Jr. inches closer toward the mainstream. He also inches closer toward himself. Ryan Reed