I first happened upon Andy Liotta many moons ago, 2008 to be precise, in his previous band the Billie Burke Estate, whose track "99 Liberty Lane" is still played constantly on one of my "Favourites" playlists. Andy has released a few albums under his own name and also had the Monday Project, where he released a new song every Monday, which ran for quite a while. This is his latest release and it came as I was about to review his prior album, which came out in 2021, but now I can focus on something shiny and new.

The album opens with "You And Only Me", and right from the start it carries those familiar Billie Burke Estate pop sensibilities, fused with lyrics that flow effortlessly. You wouldn’t expect a song about unrequited love to feel so upbeat, yet beneath the bright sound lies a sadness that makes you almost feel guilty for enjoying it.

And the tempo continues with "Rachel Rides the Short Bus", and now it's more about having a crush with a girl on the same school bus, and when you say that it sounds so mundane, but when you hear the song, it's just another slice of perfect pop.

The theme of unrequited love continues with "Like I Like You", which lets up on the pace a bit, and you can see a pattern forming, which maybe isn't too much of a surprise, given the album title of "Love Stories". I can honestly say though, when I started to listen to this album, I never made the connection. I suppose sometimes I don't like to read too much into album titles and be mis-directed, but here I think a person spinning a sign saying "These are stories about love" couldn't be any clearer and I find myself returning to my youth and the memories of all the girls, who slipped through my longing.

And yes along with the longing there were the losses, and they're brought to life in "...And Here I'm Standing", and it was at this point I felt like I was watching a musical, as the songs all have that heart and ability to make you feel engaged in what's unfolding.

I was with some trepidation that I started to listen to "Misery" and maybe that trepidation was right, in that it's very much, an, I'm unhappy, but happy to wallow in my own misery kind of song. That being said, the song isn't doom and gloom, just a view into someone dealing with the end of a relationship. I did have to smile at the following verse:

"from the day you moved in with me
that day lives in infamy
you’ve had it in for me."

Which reminded me of the classic Carry on Cleo line, where Caesar declares

"Infamy, Infamy, they've all got it in for me".

I couldn’t help but think of Bugsy Malone when I heard the opening of "Queen of Spades". The jaunty musical feel contrasts sharply with lyrics that would sound misplaced if sung by children, as they tell a tale of desire and destruction. It’s about wanting what you shouldn’t, only to have it all come crashing down. This time, however, it isn’t the sun that Icarus is flying toward.

And that Bugsy Malone feel continues with "Walkin' Away" Now don't get me wrong, being compared to a musical movie where all the adults are played by kids, isn't a bad thing. Remember the music was written by the legendary Paul Williams, so I make that comparison knowingly and my affinity for both is clear. This is another great song, but does take a little while to get into its stride, after the kind of 40's vibe start.

The tone of the slow burning "Brooklyn" is much darker and deeply heartfelt, standing out as a song of loss and bittersweet goodbyes. It captures the quiet ache of holding onto someone or something as life changes around you, conveying a tender plea for closeness and reassurance amidst uncertainty. Beneath that, there’s also the haunting sense of a missed opportunity, a moment that may or may not have been seized.

If I’m not mistaken, "Moon Lovers" is very much about a relationship kept hidden, in secret, one that comes alive only in the moonlight, safe from the sun’s glare. It also seems to be the first time we hear another voice, which I believe is Andy’s son, Cormac. On first listen it felt a little jarring, but as the song unfolds their voices create a pleasing counterbalance.

With "In Your Ear" the slower pace makes it feel like a moment truly captured, an intimate encounter with the world shut out. There’s almost a sense of relief, a quiet “finally.” Love may carry longing and loss, but it’s moments like these that make it all worthwhile.

And the happiness continues with "Color Wheel", though I have to admit it isn’t one of my personal favourites on the album. There’s a playful, almost old-fashioned quality to it that makes me imagine it being performed by a barbershop quartet. The harmonies are bright and well executed, but the style feels a little out of step with the rest of the record, which is probably why it didn’t resonate with me as strongly. Still, it adds a touch of lighthearted charm and shows another side of Andy’s versatility.

The final track, "Never Gonna Fall in Love", runs a weighty six minutes and ten seconds. When it first began, I was briefly reminded of Paul McCartney’s "Pipes of Peace", and then, with the sound of the airplane, of Pink Floyd’s "Get Your Hands Off My Filthy Desert". Both impressions were fleeting, though, as the song quickly unfolded into its own. What follows is a slow-paced declaration, as if, after all the highs and lows of the album and everything within it, there’s a conscious decision to never fall in love… until, inevitably, you do.

Wow, what a great album. As Andy mentions on Bandcamp, this is very much an album of two halves, reminiscent of the old days of vinyl. The first half delivers upbeat, up-tempo tracks that immediately draw you in, while the flip-side offers more spacious, contemplative songs, allowing the listener to slow down and reflect. This thoughtful division gives the album a satisfying flow, balancing energy with introspection and making the listening experience feel deliberate and immersive. By the time the final track fades, you’re left with a sense of having travelled through a full spectrum of emotion, and an appreciation for the craft behind each song.