Lala Lala were the first band I saw after I moved to Chicago in 2015. I was 18 and nervous, camouflaged under the low ceiling of Humboldt Park basement venue Pinky Swear in what I hoped was the universal cool-kid uniform, right down to the scuffed low-top Dr. Martens and can of PBR. In the abrasive guitar and intricately coded autobiographical lyrics of Lala Lala front woman Lillie West, I found a pocket of the Chicago underground rock scene that I could see myself in—I’ve been a fan ever since.
The title of The Lamb also refers to West’s sobriety, and to the renewal and disorientation that comes from such an abrupt change of lifestyle. “The first year is just really confusing,” she says. “While this was being written, I was relearning how to live my life. That’s why it’s called The Lamb—it’s like baby sheep learning how to live again, or learning how to walk for the first time.”
