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The Voice of Luke Kuplowsky, aka LUKA, has that rare ability to register love and hurt in a tangible and tactile manner. It is a voice of quiet intensity, capable of producing an ASMR-like response: an embodied and euphoric rush through the subtle wavering and control of his words. At times, recalling the conversational deadpan of Lou Reed and at others the airy lightness of Arthur Russell, LUKA's voice is a nuanced and rich tenor that is comforting as it is arresting. His songs are gentle meditations on love guided by flamenco-tinged nylon string guitar, and supported by electric flourishes (Stephen Prickett), meditative drumming (Evan Cartwright) and two vocalists (Ada Dahli and Julie Arsenault), whose harmonies strike a Cohen-esque doo-wop.

LUKA’s songs are works of contradiction. Starry-eyed idealism is undercut by sardonic devotionals; sincerity is both embraced and mocked. The songs understand love from both sides, acknowledging the immediacy of love’s seriousness and reflectively looking back at its absurdity. LUKA is constantly lifting the chin of his doe-eyed former self and saying, “You were young, and so am I.”