The second that "Lady Lush" (Studio Version) twangs into life like a dusty tumbleweed, Wabi Sabi sets the scene for something cinematic and unexpected. The track starts with a sort of spaghetti western vibe, those tense, empty moments before a gunslinger face-off before the metaphorical saloon doors swing open, and instead of a revolver-toting cowboy, in walks her: "Lady Lush." She's wild, unpredictable, and arguably the most relatable evil you've ever danced with.
Or is she the sexy demon of regret with one too many drinks? Or is she even that wild ex you can't let go of? Wabi Sabi leaves everything beautifully unclear, allowing you to decide. Either way, you'll be nodding not so much to the malicious bark of Billy Joel's "Big Shot" as the lyrical bite, the sass and sting, that lets regret go down just smirky enough.
The magic is not in the storytelling but in the infectious groove machine that drives the song. This is not your everyday, reggae-influenced tune. The rhythm section, particularly the deep-pocket bass and the crisp, flavorful drums, get something of a head of steam going, forcing one's feet, whatever else is being experienced, to move. Cue sticky guitar licks, emotive organ swells, and harmonies that give life to every last fleeing line, and you have a cocktail of chaos that somehow feels entirely controlled.
But the horns, oh, the horns! Out at midriff sits a tipsy trombone solo strutting around with the littlest bit of alcohol still in it, with a bluesy trumpet that's a taunt and triumph later coming to pay homage. They fill space here and create it, providing dimension and grit that transform the track into an enveloping experience. "Lady Lush" is the song that makes you laugh, dance, think, and hit repeat in under four minutes. It's theatrical and down to earth, funny and tender, but vividly alive. Wabi Sabi invites your inner demons to the party and allows you to dance your way through the chaos.
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