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The beauty of Ché Aimee Dorval’s “Loveless” is the way the song is nothing less than transportive, the Vancouver-raised singer’s blend of glitter-jacked soul and hyper-lush pop a dream-weaver ticket to getting lost in one’s own thoughts.
That’s driven home by the accompanying video, which proves once again that DIY ingenuity, and a good eye for visuals, go a long way.
The opening seconds—a dented crown, rippling waves of plastic, scalloped yellow siding—set up the four-and-a-half-minutes that follow. Things really get underway after we see the word LOVELESS stamped on the screen in burnt-orange lettering, the camera panning to a somber Dorval standing in front of blowing sheets in a sun-parched clearing.
Things are more or less left up to interpretation from that point. Seconds after the singer makes eye contact, we’re in what seems to be an abandoned house, everything from the furniture to the floor to a grand piano covered in billowing plastic, Dorval is backlit and lost in rolling waves one second, and then the next standing in the middle of what appears to be a sunflower-yellow tube-station designed by the team from 2001: A Space Odyssey.
Speaking of Kubrick’s landmark, you know how the film gets you drifting off, thinking about the universe, the strangeness of life, and whether or not you really need another bong hit?
“Loveless” is also dreamy like that, with Dorval’s smoke-cured voice and torch-bomb delivery eventually pulling you back to Earth. Insanely beautiful will do as a starting point. Where you go from there is up to you.