Love is Love was written and recorded in the two months immediately following the election, but it's not a record borne entirely of angry, knee-jerk reaction to what America is becoming. Instead, it's a meditation on love, and on what life means now. Taking cues from last year's City Sun Eater in the River of Light, it feels very much like a record made from living, shoulder to shoulder, in a major city: weaving psychedelic swirls of guitar between languid horns reminiscent of the best Ethiopian jazz—Love is Love is a distinctly New York record. It is a document of protest in uncertain times and an open-hearted rejection of cynicism in favor of emotional honesty. It is bright, and then, unexpectedly, a little dark sometimes too.