Written by: Alex Green

Over the course of Fiction Plane’s first three albums singer Joe Sumner proved himself to be a compelling frontman–his songs always had punch and fight and he never seemed to scramble to find a hook.

It’s been almost a six year gap between Fiction Plane’s Sparks (2010) and now. With Mondo Lumina, Sumner emerges in many ways as a new man–one who has done the kind of soul searching that has led to a series of life-changing answers. And it shows in his music–there’s an undeniable maturation that’s taken place as the results are rather staggering.

“…Music is seen as a means of restoring the soul,” Plato once wrote and maybe there was nothing wrong with Sumner’s soul to begin with, but on Mondo Lumina he comes across as a man who’s finally comfortable with his place in the universe. Whatever spiritual regiment or thought exercises Sumner practiced, he sounds realigned, re-energized and revitalized. And he sounds wise. Sumner knows that the only thing scarier than staring into the abyss is realizing that it’s staring right back and Mondo Lumina is his guide for getting through that showdown by learning how not to blink.

The album is rife with wisdom, (“It’s the things that none of them see that you should pay attention to”) and sensitivity (“I know sometimes it’s hard to be yourself”) and over the course of its twelve-song cycle, Sumner establishes himself as not only a great songwriter, but an encouraging one as well.

For many of us, music saved our lives. For me, the poeticism of Leonard Cohen, the precision of Paul Simon, the lacerating tongue of Dylan, the street-wise tangential surrealism of Tom Waits and the grace and humor of Pat Fish of the Jazz Butcher Conspiracy played a bigger role in my life than any of the pages of my (dusty) Norton Anthologies. Whether it’s the quiet desperation of the JBC’s “Angels” or Waits’ mumbling night ode “9th & Hennepin” I still need them as much as I ever have.

In those songs I found solace and strength. When my heart was broken at sixteen, Rain Dogs, and Distressed Gentlefolk were the manuals I consulted.

And in 2015, I’m certain Mondo Lumina will do the same for a forlorn, heartsick and lost teenager. And Sumner is the perfect narrator of his own manual. In fact, he Virgils us through the hellish waters with the strength of a warrior and the aplomb of a philosopher. “I’m a little different, you’re a little different too,” he sings. More comforting words could not be spoken.

That being said, this is one of the best pop records of the year. Brimming with energy and one after the other firing the kind of catchy hooks that will camp out in your psyche for weeks, this is an irresistible piece of work. “Flesh and Bone” is one of the most romantic and pure love songs in recent memory, while “Real Life” is a rousing, talk-you-off-the-ledge number that finds Sumner advising,”If you think you’re walking alone/I think you should know they all feel the same.”

Later, “No One But You” is a soothing, rootsy shuffle, “First Time” is pure sonic momentum and on the defiant “Refuse” Sumner declares, “I refuse to be ashamed of myself anymore/I will choose to be true to myself evermore…”

But the album’s centerpiece is the ghostly shuffle of  “In My Shoes.” A haunting, allegorical number, it finds Sumner cautioning that one can never know what someone truly feels like emotionally, so it’s best to tread lightly. He sings: “You can’t find the pattern in the back of my brain/You can’t plug in wires and feel my pain/You’ve seen something like it but it’s not the same…”

It’s a moment of empathy and understanding that is clearly autobiographical. Sumner fears being misunderstood the same way we all do and he advises that your pain, your open wound of a heart and your bewilderment with the world are uniquely your own and you have the key to pick all the locks.

And, happily, Mondo Lumina is the sound of all those doors opening.