Here’s a bold statement: The Lemonheads’ latest album, Love Chant, proves that Evan Dando’s magic isn’t just alive—it’s evolving. But here’s where it gets controversial: after nearly two decades of silence on original material, is this comeback a triumph of growth or a reminder of what once was? Let’s dive in.
Every year, countless albums slip through the cracks, no matter how many we review. That’s why we’re reviving our No Album Left Behind series to spotlight the underrated gems of 2025, and Love Chant is a prime candidate. Life doesn’t offer do-overs, but Evan Dando seems to embrace that truth. In a recent Guardian interview, the Lemonheads frontman—sober from heroin since 2021—candidly shrugged off his past: “Some people were meant to take drugs, and I was one of them.” This nonchalance is classic Dando, the same Boston-bred pretty boy whose ’90s semi-stardom was as much about infectious pop melodies as it was his laid-back persona—a stark contrast to Kurt Cobain’s angst-ridden image. Yet, Dando’s music complicates this stereotype. On the title track of 1992’s It’s a Shame About Ray, he captures his own enigma in a single line: “If I make it through today, I’ll know tomorrow not to leave my feelings out on display.” Even at his peak, what lay beneath that carefree smile was anyone’s guess.
Released in October, Love Chant—the band’s first non-covers album in nearly 20 years—is a self-aware return. While not a tell-all (for that, check out Dando’s memoir Rumors of My Demise), it’s a raw exploration of midlife existentialism, complete with sludgy riffs, unexpected twists, and Dando’s most introspective lyrics yet. On “Togetherness Is All I’m After,” he croons, “The strategy of life is that it’s gone before you know it / And when you laid it on the line, baby, don’t blow it,” over churning guitars and glacial percussion. Whether or not fans were clamoring for a Lemonheads comeback, the stakes feel higher than ever for Dando and his bandmates.
Even when grappling with heavy themes like mortality and cultural relevance, Dando sounds more alive than many of his indie rock contemporaries. In an era where rising acts lean heavily on country or power-pop—genres the Lemonheads pioneered long before they became alt-rock staples—Dando could have easily churned out nostalgic fluff. Instead, Love Chant is his most experimental work to date, blending psychedelic rock (“Togetherness Is All I’m After”), alt-folk (“The Key of Victory”), and more. Most of his risks pay off: the twangy “Cell Phone Blues” is an irresistibly catchy singalong, while the chaotic “Marauders” transforms a mishmash of brass, moog, and nonsensical babbling into a majestic finale. It’s almost ironic that Dando questions whether he has “anything left to say” on the latter track—its quirky arrangement proves he’s creatively recharged, not washed-up.
But old habits die hard. Like many Lemonheads albums, Love Chant occasionally falters in focus, resulting in tracks like “Be-In,” where Dando’s incoherent mumbling feels more like sleep-talk than songwriting. Even the mildly catchy title track and “Wild Thing” fall flat with shallow, forgettable lyrics—a stark contrast to his talent for writing brilliantly “bad” lines (remember “If I was a booger, would you blow your nose?” from “Being Around”?). For all his “throwaway charm,” tracks like “Love Chant” and “Be-In” feel like genuine throwaways.
And this is the part most people miss: despite its flaws, Love Chant has plenty for fans to love. The opener, “58 Second Song,” bursts with the band’s signature power-pop energy, while “Deep End” and “In the Margin” could pass for ’90s outtakes if not for Dando’s weathered baritone. Juliana Hatfield and J Mascis’ contributions on “Deep End” add a nostalgic yet fresh layer. Closing track “Roky” is a raw admission: “I don’t know any more than I did all those years before.” Love Chant leaves no doubt that Dando’s personal and musical journeys are far from over, but it’s clear he’s moving forward by looking back. After years of stasis, that’s a victory in itself.
Controversial Question: Is Love Chant a bold reinvention or a nostalgic retread? Does Dando’s experimental approach elevate the album, or do its flaws overshadow its strengths? Let us know in the comments—we’re eager to hear your take!
