Lizzy McAlpine – Older (and Wiser)

Review

In "Older," Lizzy McAlpine opens the door to a sun-dappled, quietly aching realm where honesty reigns and vulnerability is a companion rather than a foe. The album feels like afternoon light slanting through a window, illuminating moments of heartbreak and the sweet ache of growing older. Her indie folk roots weave seamlessly with splashes of chamber and baroque pop, wrapping introspective tales in lush, delicate arrangements. Each song is a page torn from the diary of a soul learning, slowly and with grace, to love itself.

McAlpine's voice—soft yet weathered by lessons learned—guides us through stories of imperfect relationships and tentative self-acceptance. There's an aching candor in her lyrics, a willingness to linger in the rooms where pain and wisdom coexist, painting the air with imagery both small and infinite. Themes ripple through each track like the gentle swell of an ocean tide: love fading, the bittersweet ache of change, hope blooming quietly beneath loss.

The album unfolds like a winding path, bending through secret gardens of emotion and memory. Subtle baroque flourishes, delicate piano, and brushstrokes of string arrangements elevate each confession without overshadowing the intimacy at its core. As the music settles, you're left with the warm, weighty comfort of someone else whispering, "I understand," in the language of song. - Noelle