Lois Levin

Lois Levin offers straightforward honesty amid a languid jazz sound on EP Motions.

Releasing a first solo EP, an artist could be forgiven for trying to prove themselves with elegant turns of phrase and poetic metaphor.

Make no mistake: if done well, a budding musician can establish themselves as a bard with a deft touch. Get it wrong, though, and a poet’s lament quickly becomes a collection of stale clichés.

Not looking at anyone in particular… cough Morgan Wallen… cough.

Fortunately, Levin has chosen a different focus, simply being upfront.

In promotion for the album, the jazz and soul singer freely admits:

“I feel the EP’s quite direct – I’m not that good at hiding how I feel, which is why a lot of my songs are quite literal. There’s sarcastic lyricism, vulnerability, frankness and romance all across this EP.”

This straightforward style works best when our storyteller is in a spot of conflict or inner turmoil.
Opening track ‘Call Me Names’ provides both in abundance.

The song speaks of a lover who is charming and intriguing, yet manipulative and emotionally closed off. In no-nonsense fashion, the singer lays out the scene:

“I curtsied to your feet and took a slight peek
You were as memorable as the books I quote,”

an intrigued Levin croons.

Unfortunately, it’s not all plain sailing. Later, she pointedly sheds light on a darker side:

“Though submissive sometimes works, I let my world revolve around you,
I don’t like the way you behave, it’s all on your terms,
but when I put me first, you start to call me names.”

True to the songwriter’s word, there isn’t much poetic prevarication. The audience is left in little doubt as to what the protagonist is thinking. Instead, we find the nuance within the simple truth: that it is possible to love someone despite toxic flaws.

Levin smartly sums up the dynamic in one pithy turn of phrase:

“You make me wanna catch my breath, then hold my nose.”

Elsewhere, ‘Pass You By’ is a sweet-hearted tribute to the artist’s late mother, and the need to live on in her memory.

A tender yet resolute vocal pairs well with the becalmed orchestral jazz drifting through the record. The balance between poignance and melancholy is successfully struck. The backing sets the tone excellently and provides a clear example of why this Birkenhead performer has graced everywhere from the Royal Albert Hall to PizzaExpress Live.

Across the five-track project, Motions is a well-crafted opening solo gambit, with one notable exception.

Lyrically, ‘Felt’ strives to be an angsty, pent-up number of the will-they-won’t-they variety. The two would-be flames keep misreading the language of love, much to the chagrin of our storyteller. After all, she has needs:

“I wanna be loved, I wanna be felt,
I wanna be, touched in a way, and not by myself…”


If the allusion to self-pleasure was meant to be cheeky, the innuendo quickly loses its charm after the first couple of recitations. If it was meant to convey frustration, it works, just not in the way it was likely intended.

It isn’t quite clever enough to be the main hook of the song and feels a little forced out of Levin’s otherwise smooth pipes.

‘Felt’s slow, unhurried style does little to lift the mood. The guitar and drum work aim for smooth and sultry with an air of loneliness, but risk going too far and becoming energy-sapping.

Overall, though, Lois Levin proves the old saying that honesty is the best policy on Motions.