The Lumineers’ third studio album, aptly titled “III,” recounts to its listeners a moving story of addiction, family and personal struggles. The folk-rock band manages to pull off an airy auditory experience throughout the album despite its focus on serious topics by pairing them with powerful and upbeat melodies.
With III, The Lumineers take on the role of a narrator, guiding the listener through the story of the fictional Sparks family in three chapters across ten songs (not counting the three bonus tracks also included on the album).
Just as an author can put readers in the mindset of their characters, The Lumineers take their listeners through the trials and tribulations of the Sparks family. Inspiration for the album’s darker themes came from the band members’ personal experiences, including the passing of drummer Jeremiah Fraites’ brother from a heroin overdose when Fraites was 14.
Lyrically, the album is complex and fulfilling. Some standout moments came from songs like “Donna,” which weaves together the mundane aspects of life with painful and shocking imagery. At one point lead singer Wesley Shultz croons, “The little boy was born in February/ You couldn’t sober up to hold a baby.”
Songs like “Life in the City” and “My Cell” were also instant favorites with the band’s gritty guitar playing, punchy vocals and deep, coherent melodies.
The band remains sharp throughout the album with almost every moment feeling purposeful and directed, even in songs lasting nearly six-minutes long, such as in “Jimmy Sparks.” The song reaches an anxious climax near four minutes in as the piano and violin seem to compete against each other, mirroring the competing desires of the title characters.
Following the narratives set up by the band is dizzying at times since the songs frequently jump from different points of view. Each chapter follows a generation of the Sparks family, which creates an intricate tale of familial animosity and emotional trauma.
Regardless of whether or not the listener is able to piece together the specifics of each narrative, it comes together thematically to tell a harrowing tale of addiction and its multi-generational effects on a family. To blur the line between narrative storytelling and music further, the band made music videos for each song to create a 10-part cinematic experience, available on YouTube.
The listener gets a brief respite from the emotional tone of the album in “April.” The 50-second long piano interlude sets up for the climax of the album, “Salt and the Sea.” This standout track features a haunting piano piece and lets the guitar take a backseat. The muted strumming and bare-bones feel closes out the final chapter of the album beautifully.
Overall, The Lumineers have put out a bold, experimental and intellectually stimulating story — it just happens to be in album-form. It is both powerful in emotional quality and in the strength of the music, with variety and an exceptionally strong third chapter leaving listeners feeling touched. It has a unique and welcome variation on the band’s typical folksy style and it ties the somber chapter, and album, into a neat package.
