Opening with “Slip Into,” this sultan of style is based on these flutes and subtle strings, orchestrating a swing for Maas to dance upon. Luca does the best under the terms of being in a dark, nearly pitch-black room with no distractions. It forces the audience to have full attention to the production and the easily approachable, but detailed vocals from Maas.
The following track “The Light That Will End Us” is gentle on the ears, even if the immolation that is described becomes a bitter-faced motion to a conclusion. The rolls on the snare and light taps on the hi-hat give foundation for Maas to illustrate, “My love is your love, your loves like water my friend.”
The true stars of Luca are relying on the bass lines that dig simple, but engraining grooves to the ears that collide with the percussion. While other elements like Maas’ vocal delivery or his prowess on deeply coordinating layers to slide within each other like dovetail joints. At any turn on Luca, Maas is never a conquering force but is instead that first initial moment of breaking up and crossing over into a tense loss.
While the mind goes blank, tracks like “500 Dreams” are the basis for being beautiful but also daunting in the same breath. With acoustic guitars that resemble the campfire and warmth, his lyrics are able to tell an entirely different story. He illustrates, “A city comes and makes you feel so small. The tide rolls in, covers you, head and all. Blue skies break and show the darkest days, and sometimes love seems so damn far away.”
As the instrumentation ramps up and begins to include this percussion and more ravaging strumming on the guitar, Maas can tie the knots between being incredibly strong-willed or broken into fragments.
Never falling into the pitfalls of a dead stop, instead; Maas can articulate being drenched in a blackened cloth without becoming frightening. The darkened method is instead an appreciation of emotional ties to severance without losing oneself in the mix.
A final piece, “Shines Like The Sun (Madeline’s Melody)” is a godbody description through instrumental appeal. Its form is simple but again, is also an overwhelmingly pleasant experience through mellow and nearly pale ranges of sound. The moans and hums from Maas begin to tell more than his lyrics at points, sculpting emotion into power.
But as the electric curtain falls onto the audience, the sluggish build to Luca’s end takes patience but is rewarding as a treat. To fall and bend backward, weeping as time stops; Maas is ethereal without seeming to be unhuman.