Levek: “Black Mold Grow”

Levek’s “man behind the mask” David Levesque lists a myriad of influences for his debut full-length album Look Little Closer. From Paul Simon and The Beach Boys to classic Disney VHS tapes to Florida, Levek’s surreal melodies awaken visions of sunshine and perpetually uninhibited youth.

Levesque’s entrancing vocals on the track “Black Mold Grow,” along with a Beatles’ “Strawberry Fields”-like piano progression, lures listeners into a pre-hypnotic state somewhere in between the grogginess of the world and sleep before the melody cascades into a disco hall rhythm. By then you are already locked into the heavenly choir that is Levesque’s vocals. The singer’s dreamy croon is enough to produce a contact high, leaving listeners no choice but to sit back, relax, and let their heads float around for the song’s remaining three minutes.

The Floridian setting of Levek’s forthcoming Look a Little Closer is evident in the sunny harmonies of “Black Mold Grow.” Levesque, who worked as a school bus driver in Gainesville, spent time in various cities in the heartland of the Sunshine State before finally settling in the beach town of St. Augustine. After acquiring a studio in nearby Gainesville, where Levesque pulled all-nighters developing Levek’s signature sound with a few hometown friends, Look a Little Closer gradually materialized from the singer-songwriter’s vision into something tangible and expressive.

According to Levesque, there exists a commonality between the ten songs on Levek’s debut album slated for a September 25 release. “That commonality,” Levesque divulges, “tells the tale of a young girl’s struggle with mental illness and how she overcame the odds through finding shelter and trust in family and friends.”

Given this insight, the remaining nine tracks apart from “Black Mold Grow” are simply not what one would expect for a concept album about mental illness. The tracks “Canterbury Bell” and “Girl in the Fog” bear an uncanny resemblance to the vocal harmonies and acoustic finger picking of Simon & Garfunkel, whereas the album’s seventh track “Can’t Buy This Love” sounds like smooth jazz you would hear at a beachside lounge circa the 1960s.

I imagine the early scenes of a James Bond film (Connery, of course) after the opening credits, where 007 sits poolside sipping his patented Martini with a bikini-clad girl by his side, the sun in his face and the ever-present English charm at his disposal. Levek’s album might not have all the thrill and kill of a Bond film, but it sure does have the promise to seduce just the same.