By Mary Thurmond | Photo Editor
Laufey has always had one foot in the past and one in the present. Her newest album, “A Matter of Time,” proves she’s not afraid to stretch that distance even further.
Released on Friday, the 14-track project blends jazz, classical, folk and pop into something that feels timeless, but also deeply personal. Laufey described the album as “an honest portrait of myself,” and it shows. There’s elegance, but also anxiety, anger and self-doubt. It’s pretty, but complicated.
The album opens up like a fairytale. “Clockwork” starts with a choir singing “ding dong” like a musical cuckoo clock, while Laufey’s voice floats through jazz chords and metronome-like rhythms. “And nothing brings me fear like meeting with my destiny,” she sings, setting the tone for an album that’s dreamy but full of quiet dread. It’s theatrical, but the emotion is there.
“Lover Girl” is playful and self-aware, with Laufey teasing her own transformation: “Thought I’d never be her / Quite the job you’ve done on me, sir.” The bossa nova rhythm and retro-pop charm make it feel like a love song from another era, but the lyrics are modern. It’s flirty, catchy and one of the album’s most danceable tracks.
“Snow White” has one of the most vulnerable lines in the whole album: “I don’t think I’m pretty, it’s not up for debate.” The song strips back the instrumentation and lets Laufey’s voice carry the weight. It’s a meditation on beauty standards and self-words, and it feels like a quiet scream.
“Tough Luck” is Laufey’s prettiest breakup song, but it’s far from gentle. She calls out lies and ego with lines like “You demoralized, effaced me just to feed your frail ego,” wrapping sharp lyrics in soft orchestration. It’s elegant rage, and it lands.
“Mr. Eclectic swings” with Latin-inspired rhythms and biting wit. “Quoting epics and ancient prose / Truth be told, you’re quite pathetic,” rolling her eyes at pretentious men. Clairo’s backing vocals add texture, and the whole thing feels like you’re in a jazz lounge. It’s fun, sharp and full of personality.
“Forget-Me-Not” is haunting and homesick. Laufey sings in both English and Icelandic, backed by the Iceland Symphony Orchestra. “I’m not the one you’ll remember,” she admits. The bilingual lyrics and classic arrangement make it one of the album’s most personal moments.
“Clean Air” brings a genre shift, leaning into folk and country textures. “Now sweeter pastures, wait for me like a lover,” she sings, and it truly feels like a breath of fresh air. The acoustic guitar and twangy rhythm are unexpected, but Laufey’s voice fits perfectly. It’s a reminder that she’s more than just a jazz revivalist.
“Carousel” is whimsical and melancholic. “My life is a circus / Hold on for all I bring with me,” and the imagery is theatrical without being overdone. The fairground chimes and waltz-like rhythm give it a vintage feel, but the emotion is very present-day.
“Castle in Hollywood” plays like a showgirl ballad, full of old Hollywood glamour and bittersweet longing. “I think about you always / Tied together with a string,” she sings, and the metaphor is clear. It’s about fantasy, fame and the quiet collapse of a dream. The mood is romantic, but never naive.
“Silver Lining” is smoky and lounge-ready. “And when we’re punished / For being so cruel / The silver lining’s I’ll be there with you.” It’s both cheeky and sad. The arrangement is minimal, letting her voice take the lead. It’s sultry without being showy, and the lyrics hint at hope without fully committing.
The instrumental interlude “Cuckoo Ballet” is nothing but elegant. Laufey’s cello playing takes center stage, backed by twinkling piano and theatrical strings. It’s a full-scale score in under four minutes, and it adds a classical backbone to the album’s emotional arc.
In “A Cautionary Tale,” Laufey reflects on how she loses herself in relationships. “And I can’t fix you, God, I tried, the hourglass I shattered just in time,” she sings, and it’s one of the most introspective lines on the album. The production is sparse but effective, and the storytelling is sharp. It’s a moment of clarity in an album full of emotional fog.
The album ends with chaos with “Sabotage.” “I’m my worst enemy / You assure me you love me and seal it with a kiss / I can’t be convinced,” she confesses, and the song slowly unravels into dissonance. Strings clash, rhythms fracture and Laufey’s voice becomes a vessel for anxiety. It’s jarring, especially after so many beautiful moments, but that’s the point.
