About Love is an excellent example of the slow-burn transition from understatement to anthemic, a song starting in the poised folk territory and, through adding layers of texture and tone, sonic weight and creative ornateness, arrives at a realm of epic crescendoes and wide-screen grandeur.
And so imperceptible is this gradual change – the addition of a beat here, a more driven bassline there, the ebb and flow between delicacy and dexterity constantly erring towards the latter, that you only really realise the process is happening in hindsight. But that is the art of it; the listener should be gently carried between one realm and the next without it being obvious, free to appreciate the journey at their own pace and in their way. And that is precisely what is happening here.
It is also a very timely song, one that feels perfect for the end of one year and the dawning of another, a song full of nostalgia and whistful reflection of what was and what might have been, the realities and the possibilities that never came to fruition—a song about endings and beginnings, both actual and perceived.
Ballads are tricky to get right, especially ones that bring a slice of punch and power. Err on the side of minimalism, and the song lacks poise and punch. If you go too big, you turn things into some 80s rock power ballad, and no one wants a return to those fateful days. What Arn-Identified Flying Objects and Alien Friends does so well here is to get the balance just right. It’s a great song, it’s as simple as that.
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