Ostensibly an exercise in less-meticulous production, Ida's seventh album finds them as precious and whispery as ever, despite whatever spontaneity the duo of Dan Littleton and Elizabeth Mitchell garnered from working in the Catskills home studio of the Band's Levon Helm. Lovers Prayers is an organic-sounding effort, though, and the unruffled contentedness that comes from being married and playing music together for years is telegraphed to listeners loud and clear.
That's the only thing loud about Lovers Prayers. Habitually—and rightly—compared to their fellow band mate/spouses in Low, Ida mine a painfully slow, quiet and lovely strain of folk that seems too mainstream for indie audiences, too arty for coffeehouse denizens and possibly too subdued for either. Considerable treasures do await those with the patience to get to know this record, from Mitchell's breathy, halting harmonies on “The Love Below” to the enrapturing piano backbone of “Surely Gone.” The opening title track is punchier than others, Littleton's insistent vocals working in step with tidal instrumentation.
Ida's lyrics here dwell on their bucolic surroundings, from “Blue Clouds” to “Willow Tree.” They also dip freely into the bottomless well of love, dissecting at a distance every high and low of a steady romance. There's darkness hanging around their tales, however, and guilt and sorrow play as much a part as loyalty and affection.
The duo milk a surprising amount of variety from their disciplined formula, exploring all sorts of terrain without breaking into more than a leisurely trot. The stop-start “Worried Mind Blues” plays like a slowed-down oldies tune, in contrast to the dissolute rumbles of “First Take.” Littleton and Mitchell sing together nicely on “The Killers 1964,” inspired by the Lee Marvin film of the same name. Even then, though, it's just a launch pad for singing about—what else?—love.
