Actually, it’s already begun. The twosome met a scant four years ago while working as kayak instructors at the Olympic Outdoor Center. “It didn’t take long for us to become close friends,” recalled Grandall, “we eventually became roommates with a few of our friends while we were attending college in Seattle. I was performing and writing songs as a solo artist throughout high school and college, and I asked Kendra if she would play drums with me for Seattle University’s Battle of the Bands in 2009.” After just a week of practice, they realized they had to keep making music together.
A year later, the duo found themselves holed up in Cox's aunt and uncle's house to record their defining document, The Singles Record. It was the first time that Grandall shared song writing duties with Cox, and the cooperation reveled the groups' strengths. “It seems as though our songwriting process becomes more collaborative the longer we play together,” Grandall says. The record's restrained pop garnered raves from Sound on the Sound and the Seattle Weekly. “Whale Song” became a KEXP song of the day and the group was tapped to play with local folkie heroes the Maldives at Nuemos on April 15th and landed a coveted opening slot for the Head and the Heart’s sold out homecoming at the Show Box later this month.
[pullquote]Lemolo’s reserved sound draws from indie rock’s most patient pop-smiths. The slow burning chord changes of Beach House are an obvious touchstone and the band are comfortable wading through the hazy folk landscapes of Wye Oak. [/pullquote]Lemolo’s reserved sound draws from indie rock’s most patient pop-smiths. The slow burning chord changes of Beach House are an obvious touchstone and the band are comfortable wading through the hazy folk landscapes of Wye Oak. These spacious surroundings let Lemolo put their relationship front and center. Revel in the way spare melodies are accented with brief cymbal splashes on “Open Air" and how lovelorn harmonies rise when the emotion is raw and can’t stand to be alone. Grandall and Cox have the type of conversation you can only have with a close friend on a long car ride; each participant knows when to goad a reaction and when to just let the road change pavement beneath them.
The results can be haunting. Lemolo’s songs have a campfire feel, not in a hippie way but the actual experience of huddling up in an uncaring wilderness. The band makes the fire, surei, but they also paint the cold night that gives the heat it’s immediacy. And that’s the band’s wispy revelation: ntimacy is isolated and Lemolo waft in that place where your deep connection to another person exposes that feeling’s scarcity.