In the wake of bassist and founding member Sean Stewart’s passing in 2010, HTRK’s sound changed considerably. The now-duo shed the cold, industrial leanings of their earlier releases for a more overtly sensual approach, something that could soundtrack moments of intimacy or ennui, or both.
HTRK explores these same rich themes on Venus in Leo, but the mood is suffocated by melancholy. If the steely electronics of Work (work, work) recalled Antoine D’Agata’s alluringly grotesque photography, Venus in Leo suggests those same photos shot in broad daylight, all obscurity and mystery erased. HTRK are at their most vulnerable here, sounding in desperate need of sating desires before they are paralyzed by listlessness and disappointment.
On opener “Into the Drama,” Jonnine Standish’s vocals are equal parts disaffected and fatigued as she contemplates her obsessive tendencies. “And you dance me to the edge of romance/And you called and I heard/I hang onto every word,” she sings over the nonchalant strumming of an acoustic guitar. Her craving for physical contact is palpable on “Mentions,” a track that details everyday experiences with beauty counter workers (“The touch of your hand to my face/And the way that you’re talkin’ softly/It’s not enough attention for me”) and social media (“Even with another mention/You should’ve made a difference by now"), and how both prove insufficient. Even on the woozy cover of Missy Elliott’s “Hit ’Em Wit Da Hee,” Standish highlights specific lyrics—like the evocative “slurp me swiftly”—to highlight her yearning.
More than any other HTRK album, Venus in Leo is filled with anguish. It looms over “New Year’s Day,” where Standish confesses her fears about the upcoming year: “I’ve got a sinking feeling I’m gonna do the wrong thing, eventually.” On “New Year’s Eve,” she recalls a failed teenage romance and broods on how it has come to define her. For Standish, her memories are a remorseless window into the person she is today, and the one she thinks she’s destined to be forever. As such, Venus in Leo is an album for those who feel doomed to a repeating cycle of failed loves and dashed hopes, for when one’s existence can resemble the fading apparitions that adorn the album cover. “I could be free somehow,” Standish sings on “Dying of Jealousy.” That sense of freedom—tangible yet unattainable—makes Venus in Leo as harrowing as it is intimate.
