In the early 2000s, female-led alt-folk was having a real moment. In 2002, Kasey Chambers swept the ARIAs with Not Pretty Enough<\/em> and The Waifs finished in the top three of an extremely rock-heavy Hottest 100 with London Still<\/em>. In 2004, Missy Higgins released her massive hit Scar<\/em>, which did both.<\/p>\n And sandwiched in between, Sydney singer-songwriter Amiel Daemion released Lovesong<\/em>. The track wasn\u2019t exactly ignored, but it was denied the kind of critical and commercial success of its contemporaries. It debuted at number 13 on the ARIA singles chart and rose briefly into the top 10, but faded from the chart entirely after just 26 weeks. Amiel was nominated for five ARIA awards that year, and somehow lost every single one to Delta Goodrem.<\/p>\n Twenty years on, Lovesong<\/em> is in dire need of a reappraisal. It\u2019s not simply criminally underrated, it\u2019s perfect.<\/p>\n A love letter to Amiel\u2019s Lovesong<\/span><\/p>\n It\u2019s better than Untouched<\/em> by The Veronicas. Better than Chandelier<\/em> by Sia. Yes, even better than Kylie\u2019s Can\u2019t Get You Out Of My Head<\/em>. Catchier than Not Pretty Enough<\/em>, more daring than Scar<\/em>. Less manicured than My My My<\/em> by Troye Sivan, less xylophone than Somebody I Used To Know<\/em> by Gotye and Kimbra.<\/p>\n Lovesong<\/em> has everything you could want or need in a pop song \u2013 it was simply born in the wrong era. Too cynical for the true believers, too earnest for the scorned, too many f-bombs for a white woman in the early 2000s. It\u2019s a track that feels so fresh and original today, a decidedly modern earworm brimming with cutting lyrics and bubbling vulnerability. Amiel\u2019s voice is lilting and captivating, and the chorus is an absolute banger. Without squinting, you can trace the song\u2019s DNA in some of the best Aussie alt-pop tracks of the past few years: Killing My Time<\/em> by G Flip, Regular Touch<\/em> by Vera Blue, Josh<\/em> by Peach PRC.<\/p>\n In the current era of hyper-connectivity, social media and dating apps, Lovesong<\/em> would be one of the biggest songs in the world. It feels destined to be the next 2000s nostalgia trip to be given a second life on TikTok and become a global sensation. A proto-Taylor Swift, now connecting with a generation of young women more self-aware and empowered than any before it.<\/p>\n Amiel\u2019s lyrics are not the sophomoric musings of the lost and lovelorn. Indeed, the opening lines are an existential questioning of love, relationships and human desire. \u201cDo you know what it is you\u2019re looking for?\u201d<\/i> she asks. Hell of a question for millennials, let alone for a generation increasingly unbound by traditional concepts of sexuality, gender and monogamy, where even distance is no longer the barrier it was.<\/p>\n The dating game has changed. Lovesong<\/em> worked against the backdrop of You\u2019ve Got Mail <\/i>and Bridget Jones\u2019 Diary, <\/i>but it hits even harder in the world of Heartstopper <\/i>and Riverdale<\/i>. The world of Tinder and Bumble, of swiping and situationships and trauma bonding. Where relationships bloom in so many shapes and colours. Where rejection can come with the swipe of a finger, but profound bonds can develop with almost the same level of immediacy. Where the labyrinth has infinitely more paths, but the journey is all the more free for the chaos.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n