Alex Cameron's newest and most musically expansive LP, the glistening Miami Memory, takes a surprising turn. Cameron's flair for narrative and character are still on full display; yet Miami Memory's most frequent narrator is, for the first time, Cameron himself – singing with stunning candour of his three-year relationship with his girlfriend.
Though remnants of his synth-driven earlier work sneak in to unsettle the tone, the bulk of Miami Memory, produced by Jonathan Rado (Weyes Blood, Father John Misty) and recorded and mixed by Marta Salogni (Björk, Kelela), revels in the emotional overdrive of classic dad rock, its warm, anthemic songs driven by bass, guitar, sax, and layers of Vegas wedding chapel-ish organ.
Cameron's dad rock funhouse of an album ultimately twists and subverts the genre: it recalls classics the white male ego has historically visited for its regular adrenaline injection, and morphs them into a singular “stepdad” rock that largely turns its lens away from the dads, celebrating the demise of old norms of gender and power.
With arresting straightforwardness, Cameron now sings as himself, paying tribute to sex, female empowerment, family and responsibility, and, to his love.