Laura Lucas lets the season speak on “Let The Winter Have Me,” a mid-tempo indie-folk vow from her album "There’s a Place I Go"
Cold seasons teach a quiet grammar: to stay, to breathe, to bear the weather. Laura Lucas’s latest single “Let The Winter Have Me,” arriving through Nettwerk, alongside her album “There’s a Place I Go,” treats that grammar as a vow—and grounded patience. The Melbourne singer-songwriter unveils a tranquil, mid-tempo Indie-Folk/Folk-Pop meditation where tenderness and courage braid like twine. Catchy, tender guitar riffs beckon first; her slightly raspy vocal writes fear in cursive—sharks, inheritance, the airplane’s shadow—yet refuses hysteria. Indeed, the melody moves at walking speed, granting the lyric room to think. However, this is not pallor; it is color graded restraint. When the bridge opens, kick, piano, and a soft bass bloom, while faintly chorused voices hover like breath on glass, expanding the frame without disturbing its stillness.
The song’s thesis—live by curiosity rather than by fear—emerges not as sermon but as practice. She chooses to stay, to “let winter have” her, which in musical terms means letting harmonies linger and letting silence ring. Moreover, Lucas shapes vulnerability into architecture: chord changes tilt like winter sun through a window, production choices feel hand-stitched, and the refrain returns as a rite of consent. In fact, the later swell of drums and piano does not dramatize pain; it furnishes endurance, a hearthbeat more than heartbeat. The effect on the listener is paradoxically warming: you sense frost at the threshold while your chest gathers heat. In addition, the final repetitions—steadfast, lucid—sound less like surrender than sovereignty. Fear is given its season; the self claims the weather. Completely.
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