900 Kms From Lund by LiLund: A Lo-Fi Synth-Pop Gem That Feels Like a Road Trip You Didn’t Know You Needed
So, picture this: it’s 2003, France is vibin’ with its baguettes and berets, and out comes 900 Kms From Lund—a self-released album by Lisa Li-Lund (or just "LiLund," if you’re into the whole brevity thing). It’s got rock, electronic vibes, synth-pop feels, indie-rock grit, and even some lo-fi charm. Basically, it's like someone threw all their favorite genres into a blender and hit “puree.” And somehow? It works.
Now, I gotta say, this record isn’t perfect. But that’s kinda why I love it—it’s messy in the best way possible, like scribbling outside the lines but still making art. The tracks feel like they were recorded late at night when no one was watching, which, honestly, might be true since it was self-released under “Not On Label.” Shoutout to Lisa and Neman for writing most of these tunes together; they clearly had something to say—even if it came out sounding a bit rough around the edges.
Let me zoom in on two tracks that stuck with me because, well, how could you not?
First up: “Tequila Tears.” Who wouldn’t remember a song with a name like that? It’s got this wobbly synth line that sounds like your keyboard got drunk and decided to play along anyway. Then there’s the beat—it’s simple, almost lazy, but it pulls you in like quicksand. By the time Lisa starts singing about whatever emotional chaos inspired the title, you’re already hooked. Is she sad? Mad? Both? Honestly, I don’t know, and that mystery keeps me coming back. Plus, who can’t relate to crying over bad decisions fueled by tequila? Relatable content right there.
Then there’s “You Turn Me On.” Okay, yeah, the title sounds cheesy as hell, but hear me out. This track flips the script with its moody bassline and glitchy production. It’s sexy without trying too hard, like that friend who shows up to a party wearing ripped jeans and somehow looks cooler than everyone else. There’s this moment halfway through where the vocals drop out, and it’s just synths doing their thing—it’s hypnotic. Like, I’ve rewound that part like five times just to figure out what makes it so damn addictive. Spoiler alert: I never figured it out.
The rest of the album has its highs and lows, of course. Tracks like “Mick Jagger’s Lips” and “Angry Girls” bring quirky energy, while others like “Morning Coffee” lean more introspective. But overall, it’s an eclectic mix that feels personal, like flipping through someone’s diary set to music. Not everything lands perfectly, but that unpredictability is half the fun.
One thing that surprised me? How much this album reminds me of driving—not just any drive, though. Those long, aimless ones where you forget where you started and don’t care where you’ll end up. Maybe it’s the lo-fi haze or the way the songs bleed into each other, but listening to 900 Kms From Lund feels like cruising down a highway at dusk, windows down, letting the wind mess up your hair.
Final thought: If aliens ever visit Earth and ask us to explain human emotions through music, I’d hand them this album. Sure, it’s imperfect and weird, but isn’t that kind of beautiful? Also, side note—if anyone knows what “+1, +2, +3” means, hit me up. Still scratching my head on that one.
