Behold…
It isn’t every day that one of my favorite human beings and singers of all time releases new music; Alas, 2024 delivers an opulent treat in the form of Lucia Cifarelli’s third solo album, No God Here !
No God Here joins From the Land of Volcanoes (2003) and I Am Eye (2021) as a trio of records that—while each has its own distinctive characteristics and sound philosophies—stand as a cohesive tour through the heart and soul of one of our world’s most unique, passionate, and self-determined songwriters.
Self-determined, indeed. Lucia is a remarkable individual on multiple fronts, a humble, generous person and a powerful, honest artist; one who is no stranger to struggle nor pain, and who boldly weaves the notorious highs and lows of mortal existence into vocal tapestries of delight and inspiration for all those with the ears to hear it.
No God Here is a work of penetrative vulnerability, and a pure DIY indie project from the ground up. Lucia designed the cover art herself, as well as self-produced all elements of the title track’s video. The album was entirely funded within about a month via Kickstarter.
While I am clearly biased, it’s not as if my predisposition toward celebrating Lucia Cifarelli’s legacy emerged unwarranted. Lucia earned my enthusiasm and loyalty, through decades of raw authenticity and creative tenacity, by singing words that help my own life make more sense to me, and by doing so with her unmistakably mesmerizing voice.
Ahem. Anyway…
Without any further fanboy hootin’ and hollerin’, just how does the new album fare?
No God Here opens on a strong, confident note with (1) Paper Tiger, a rich and fully embodied composition that deftly merges indie grunge vibes with delicious doses of slide guitar, highlighted by the warm glow of Lucia’s immersive storytelling. I can’t keep the smile off of my face while listening to it, with feelings of trust and excitement expanding in my heart. It is like setting out on a nourishing new journey with a treasured old friend.
My smile from Paper Tiger only widens to the infectious guitar grooves and snappy beats of (2) Dark Horse, which is adorned by the kind of vulnerable, self-aware lyrics that contribute to Cifarelli’s magnetism. Lyrically, Dark Horse resonates with me in a similar way to the words in To Be Alive (a song from I Am Eye), which is to say that I hear so much of my own story and emotions somehow ringing out of Lucia’s vocal cords. The non-lyrical oohs and aahs here are soulful splashes of paint on the soundscape’s canvas, and the synth work here is warm, juicy, and flavorful, akin to biting into a Gusher (but with your ears)
The title track, (3) No God Here, is a transcendently haunting, chill-inducing delve into (what I interpret to be) the essence of human suffering in the face of injustice, hypocrisy, and abandonment. It conjures memories in me, of being let down, mishandled, and even abused by individuals and institutions that I once believed I could rely upon to take care of me. Hope and optimism reside in this song too, by virtue of the fact that Lucia transmutes these yearning emotions into art. This offers opportunities for connection and solidarity for those who relate and receive. It’s a blissfully evocative piece, as cathartic as it is gorgeous.
Then there’s (4) Lights Out, which totally batter-rammed me square in the gut upon my first listen. The subject matter pertains to school shootings and their social impact, as well as the society’s ineptitude in addressing our fears or quelling the violence. It’s a somber song due to its thesis but is not presented in overly dire fashion. Frankly, nobody is more qualified to deliver this message than the one who joined KMFDM (technically mdfmk) in the aftermath of Columbine. Lights Out is sincere, important, and unfortunately: Still all too relevant.
(5) Hit Where it Hurts is a sonically playful romp through the rollercoaster-tango of human relationships. It invokes for me the cyclical patterns of pain, confusion, pleasure, and promise that have accompanied my drive for seeking meaning, love, and a sense of aliveness in the affection of others. It’s a hoppin’ jam; clean, well-conceived, and concise, with a catchy hook and scrumptious vocals.
The most electronic song of the bunch thus far, (6) High On You dazzles and hypnotizes with its tight futurepop loops and a crisp guitar backdrop that’s both subtle and essential. The lyrics and pitch-perfect vocals dump buckets of color all over my imagination, recoating my memories of past loves and euphorias in fresh new hues and interplanetary metaphors.
Next up is a brooding, visceral, beautiful masterpiece called (7) Matches & Gasoline. The words slide down my ear canals like a handful of pills down an addict’s throat, catalyzing restlessness and relief, destruction and healing, chaos and completion, all in simultaneous splendor. I’ve been hearing this song on repeat in my dreams lately. Then it lingers, echoing into my waking hours, and I realize that it’s simply a part of me now.
(8) Valhalla takes the atmospheric precedent set by Matches & Gasoline and twists it into a limitless upward spiral. The tone here evokes a theme conducive to self-discovery, self-actualization, and breaking free of conditioned limitation and undue obligation, soaring forth to become everything we’re meant to be. That’s what I get out of it anyway. The lyrics blur the lines between the real and the surreal, the literal and intangible, presenting a free-association kaleidoscope of images and meanings. This is one of my favorites on the album, if only for the sense of adventure and drama that my soul discovered in its embrace.
An empowerment anthem tangentially reminiscent of KMFDM’s WDYWB, (9) Believe unleashes the synthesizers and hardbeats. It resounds as a head-bopping invitation to prioritize mind-over-matter (or rather to plant beneficial seeds in the mind so that matter will behave accordingly). Believe is fun and full of energy, abundant with Lucia’s sultry singing and rabble-rousing shouts.
(10) The Creeps cranks up the guitars as Lucia playfully narrates about the perils of being on the receiving end of misplaced infatuation and territorial obsession. It rocks pretty hard in a nineties sort of way, complete with a sweet little midsong break-down and Lucia vibing at her spunkiest.
Bottom line
No God Here is a magnificent achievement that should be listened to multiple times in multiple contexts for full effect. It never pigeon-holes itself into a singular mold musically or thematically, while managing to remain a cohesive and unified listening experience. I am over-the-moon thrilled that Lucia continues to cultivate her autonomous artistic identity outside of her (also magnificent) contributions to KMFDM.
After all, Lucia Cifarelli is a rockstar of the highest order, a countercultural icon who harbors a smoldering Phoenix in the expanses of her heart. The firebird writhes, dances, and sings through her, restoring all the weary souls its reverberations reach, providing solace to the despondent, and reminding us all that we’re not as alone as we sometimes feel.
NO GOD HERE (THE SINGLE) is out now (as of Friday, September 6).
NO GOD HERE (THE ALBUM) releases in mid-October!
LUCIA HAS A PATREON
Great review! I was already looking forward to it, but it makes me even more excited to hear the new album.
Thanks for reading, homie! I am excited about catching the KMFDM 40th anniversary performance with you!