The mathematical constant pi has a lot in common with love—for hundreds and hundreds of years it has caused centered and logical folks to pull their hair out. Like love, pi is called irrational, infinite, and unpredictable.
A Love Like Pi’s moniker purposely references these two epic headaches. The New York-based band revels in exploring such mercurial profundities, especially those surrounding the number three. The three-piece rock-electronica outfit calls its debut, III, and, on it, they imaginatively, and with bold emotionality, explore three stages of life.
“I hope people find themselves in the narrative of this album. No matter where you are in life, there are different parts of this album that can resonate with you—the songs span many moods,” explains vocalist/songwriter/multi-instrumentalist Lief Liebmann.
The abstract dialogue pi and love invites represents an intriguing parallel in A Love Like Pi’s own sonic disposition. The group confounds electronic band expectations through sidestepping dance music and, instead, nurturing a unique style of hook-laden cathartic music that, at times, conjures up the visceral quality of punk rock.
A Love Like Pi’s cavalier and catchy artistry has garnered acclaim and prime exposure from pop and tastemaking outlets such as WhiteRiverRafting, EMD Sauce, Seventeen, PureVolume, Punchland, Diffuser.fm, The Electronic Current, among others. A Love Like Pi is the vision of singer/songwriter/multi-instrumentalist/producer Lief Liebmann, and it features the propulsive, and dynamically creative, drumming of Christopher LoPorto. Live the band fattens its sound with a sideman bassist, Chez.
A Love Like Pi’s three stages of life narrative is loosely divided into the sections boy, man, and death with each epoch being evoked through dynamics and thoughtful, time-of-life appropriate lyrics. The album begins brash and ends meditate.
III’s vigorous opening track, “Till I Die,” establishes the story arc with cocky youthful anthemics. A few songs in, the narrative dips a toe in reflection with the adolescent crisis of “Sorry 2.0.” Here, tucked slyly beneath the track’s futuristic pop, the protagonist explores his struggle with sexual dysfunction. The throttling “Cats” is a playful reprieve from the album’s narrative. “That was written about a nightmare I had about cats. The noises in the chorus mimic the sound of the cats in the nightmare,” Lief says, laughing good-naturedly