As a member of the grossly under-appreciated Fiery Furnaces, Eleanor Friedberger has established herself as a prominent figure in one of the most imaginative songwriting partnerships of recent years. Between the unchartered territory navigated on their early century high-water mark, Blueberry Boat, and the (slightly) more radio-friendly material of their subsequent work, the band have slowly veered away from the prog-influenced eccentricities that marked their first few records towards a more direct pop sensibility. They've kept their fundamental appeal intact throughout this evolution, a remarkable feat considering the sheer range of sounds and influences that have at various stages fallen under their aesthetic umbrella. Friedberger's solo debut continues to stretch outwards, both utilising the adventurous arrangements of her full-time band - the squelchy synths, jangly acoustic guitar and wide-eyed, exploratory lyrical style - and adopting a breezy, '70s indebted melodic edge, which adds an immediacy to her sound that instantly appeals.
'My Mistakes' embodies Friedberger's freshly-conceived hybrid beautifully, boasting one of the quick-lipped narratives that have become her trademark, as she begins with the inspired opening lines, "You know I do my best thinking when I'm flying down the bridge, humming to myself and kicking off my kicks". As her daydream tip-toes past a remembered bike crash, rejection ("he's ignoring me like it's 2001") and an ambulance call-out, a remarkably simplistic synth-hook ripples through the mix with buoyant energy, providing the spice for a heady concoction that kickstarts the record perfectly. An exuberant saxophone solo at the song's conclusion - arguably ill-advised without the sublime context supplied here - somehow works wonders, both hammering home the eagerly adopted retro vibe and providing welcome respite from the tightly-wound, restless songwriting that signposts the Fiery Furnaces' core material.
After impressing with a stunning opener, Last Summer succeeds on further counts. On 'Heaven' a piano takes centre stage, with a batch of rudimentary chords serving as the foundation for a bar-room style singalong. At various stages the song undergoes subtle transformation, drifting with ease in and out of a chamber-pop style breakdown that somehow wrings a new lease of life from rudimentary ingredients. Here, perhaps, lies the intriguing twist: whereas the Fiery Furnaces are inclined to lurch from section to section, embracing excited disorientation and a constant search for undiscovered pleasure, this record greatly benefits from pacing and dynamic, providing a well-rounded evolution of an already invigorating formula. It's on this measured sense of momentum that 'Scenes from Bensonhurst' flies, its keyboard backing line anaesthetising the listener and gently coasting by on an invitingly middling pace. Friedberger adopts a largely laid-back persona throughout the record - nothing's ever rushed, the majority of the rhythms both sensitively adapting to her considered delivery and anchoring the refreshing familiarity and warmth of her distinctive musical palette.
Kicking out against the lightness of touch identifiable elsewhere, 'Roosevelt Island' uses funk as its blueprint - another questionable prospect but one that, against all odds, works. The space provided between a sparse - almost slapped - bass part is filled by Friedberger's percussive delivery, which crackles with lively conviction. As with 'Inn of the Seventh Ray', another highlight, Friedberger laces her narrative with places, people, and memories, most of which revolve around her adopted Brooklyn home, the famous borough of a city she seems endlessly fascinated by. She sings of "tequila in the temple for the break-in reunion of the old band", and of "the time we took the tram down to Roosevelt Island [when] you made me feel like I was more like you than like me." These images create a vivid portrait of her past experiences; when coupled with the fuzzy production ticks that colour the material here, we're left with a captivating ride through the life of a daring singer who consistently shows determination to enrich her stories with vibrance and conviction.
'I Won't Fall Apart on You Tonight' is the most striking showcase for the refreshing simplicity on the record as a whole, with Friedberger entirely neglecting the esoteric tendencies of her band, instead issuing a strain of songwriting that's uncomplicated and immediate. The central refrain is reminiscent of Fleetwood Mac, offering a modern translation of the youthful bounce of Rumours' finest moments. My complaints are few, the most obvious being reserved for the slight down-step of 'Glitter Gold Year', which sits limply at the centre of the album. On the whole, Friedberger delivers her songs on Last Summer with conviction, striking out against the experimental streak of her full-time band's records to create a uniquely personal space from her melting-pot of influences. With brother Matt occupied by his ongoing Solos project - and with the sheer joy and enthusiasm she brings to this release in tow - further explorations down such avenues may reap ever-greater rewards.