Worlds collide in Lahnah’s self-titled debut album: Introducing Thomas Shadis on guitar, a radio rock head. Asher Johnson, the drummer, who’s all about those through-composed forms, like experimental classical and fusion. Finally, seasoned jazz and hip-hop bassist, Griff Jurchak. An ideal writers’ room, as far as I’m concerned: influences which can all be traced between one another. But the reason for their excellence as a group lies far beyond their seemingly sophisticated listening palettes, and rather in their ability to come closer than anyone I know to putting a tooth-falling-out-I-forgot-my-pants-the-sky-is-falling nightmare on its feet and into the studio. Forgive me, I’m getting ahead of myself.
The journey to Lannah took perfecting their live act in small house shows around Philadelphia, as well as three East Coast tours, buzzing audiences as they switched up instrumental breakdowns with scintillating prose, akin to beat poetry jams, though far more plugged in and far scarier. Take single “Raunchadelic”: which uses spoken tropes you might recognize from LCD Soundsystem, IDLES, and so forth, such as “The competition it was based / on who could consume the most / salad dressing in good taste / from the bottle top it sprays!” It’s haunting, but so unserious: the soundtrack to running away from your ironic valley-boyfriend chasing you with a chainsaw, screaming about his weekend plans as his tote of Jefferson Airplane rare prints trails behind from his shoulder. It gives serious giggles, especially when paired with wacky lyrics—”the guest DJ is a cop / the rent mascot is twerkingggg”—and sick rhythm section breakdowns from idiosyncratic “Money Ball.”
I find myself making connections between “I Think I’m You” (originally released as part of the band’s collection, Demos 2024) and The Yes Album for all of its drama, punctuation, and flow of phrasing; only, unlike Yes in their early days, saturates the same dry, more focused stereo field, by putting the lyrics to the forefront while still leaving much to discover upon a second or third listen. The fusion influence couldn’t be clearer. “Ruled by Dreams” was also originally released on Demos 2024, but the Lannah mix has certainly matured since then. It is a gentle, lilting rock and roll, occasionally drifting into disco. Like how Queen sounded in the 80s, but more formless on the surface. Up until the album’s poignant, seething climax, “I Genuinely Hate You With My Whole Heart,” “I Think I’m You”—and actually, the whole album—follows the trajectory of a dream starting in that what-the-fuck back-of-the-mind abstraction before devolving into something pointed and scary. The multichannel stuff on the album’s plaintive intro and interlude leaves you in suspense of what hell is to come, like a sadistic palate cleanser for your two individual ears! As you descend further into the group’s twisted subconscious! It’s not a vibe, it’s a purposeful narrative arc.
Because Lahnah has written something for the dreamers. The people who dream of limitless expression and ideological freedom for all people, sure. But also people who experience vivid fucking dreams. Like how I do, honestly, yet I never thought to try to recreate the sounds of falling into nowhere or running away from nothing. I wake up, I move on. However, Lahnah doesn’t let listeners look away from the ups and downs, chases and meditations that come to us in sleep. Simply for the sake of it, and armed with their high-level technical musicianship, Lahnah wrote listeners a high-power nightmare that’s so “raunchadelic, babe.”
