A thoughtful, mature and heartfelt comeback — not a revolution, but a reaffirmation.
It’s been nearly twenty years since The Lemonheads last released an album of original material — 2006’s self-titled The Lemonheads feels like a lifetime ago. In the interim, the band drifted between nostalgia and near-silence, revisiting ’90s classics on tour and releasing cover albums like Varshons 2.
For frontman Evan Dando, those years were about survival more than momentum. Between addiction struggles, long creative droughts and a self-imposed exile to Brazil, he sought a new sense of perspective. Recorded partly in São Paulo, Love Chant feels like the work of an artist who’s stopped chasing his past and started understanding it — a clean-slate statement two decades in the making.
Released October 24, 2025 via Fire Records, the album features an impressive lineup of collaborators including J Mascis, Juliana Hatfield, Adam Green and Nick Saloman. The result is warm, subtly off-kilter and deeply lived-in. The Lemonheads’ melodic instincts remain sharp, but this time Dando opts for slow-burn sincerity over instant gratification. The production carries a hazy, sun-soaked charm that reflects his Brazilian surroundings.
The album opens strong with “Deep End,” built around a “lazy, perfect riff” that nearly collapses but never does. Mascis delivers a blazing solo straight out of ’90s-alt mythology, while Hatfield’s harmonies add warmth and texture. It’s classic Lemonheads — jangly, loud and self-aware — yet grounded in something older and wiser.
“Togetherness Is All I’m After” begins with power-pop urgency before easing into quiet reflection, ending on Dando’s whispered plea: “Baby, don’t blow it.” It’s the record’s emotional center — pairing immediacy with vulnerability, punch with tenderness.
Despite its teasing name, “58 Second Song” runs past three minutes, a sunburned indie tune with a gentle country lilt. Its confessional, puzzle-like lyrics and understated twang showcase Dando’s subtler songwriting side. Meanwhile, “In The Margin” — the album’s lead single — offers bright, vengeful power-pop energy. Dando calls it “a full-on 8th-grade girl revenge song,” and it plays exactly that way: witty, hooky and cathartic.
Elsewhere, tracks like “The Key of Victory” slow the pace, swapping fuzz for introspection. Rather than rehashing It’s a Shame About Ray, Dando embraces middle age with grace. The mix of alt-rock crunch, country inflection and gentle psychedelia feels less like experimentation and more like honest evolution.
Love Chant isn’t flawless — the pacing can wander and it lacks the laser-focused hooks of their early- ’90s peak — but that’s part of its charm. This is an album about process, not perfection.
After years of silence and uncertainty, Love Chant doesn’t just re-establish The Lemonheads; it humanizes them. It’s the sound of Dando finally ready to speak again — not with defiance, but with earned calm. A quietly triumphant return that trades youthful chaos for grown-up clarity — proof that The Lemonheads still know how to make their noise feel like home.
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