Album Review : James Laurent “Laugh at the Tragedy”

Album Review : James Laurent “Laugh at the Tragedy”

With Laugh at the Tragedy, James Laurent delivers a sophomore album that feels less like a calculated follow-up and more like a raw emotional document, captured in real time while everything around him was falling apart. Across eight tracks, the Ecuadorian-American artist strips indie rock back to its most vulnerable core, offering a record shaped by burnout, heartbreak, addiction, and a sharp, almost unsettling sense of humour in the face of collapse..

Born in Milwaukee and now based in Los Angeles, Laurent’s journey is anything but conventional. From a teenage soccer dream cut short by injury to becoming one of the youngest Dolby Atmos–certified studio designers in the U.S., his background as an elite engineer looms quietly behind this album. Yet Laugh at the Tragedy is not about technical flexing. Instead, it sounds intentionally unpolished, as if too much refinement would dilute the honesty at its center.

The album opens with “Polarity”, immediately establishing the emotional push and pull that defines the record. There’s a sense of inner conflict baked into the melodies—melancholic yet tense, restrained but simmering. “On My Altar” follows with a confessional tone, framing devotion and self-sacrifice as both survival mechanisms and quiet self-destruction. Laurent’s voice never overreaches; its fragility is part of the message.

Mid-album highlights like “Midas” and “anesthesia” explore numbness and disillusionment, reflecting the emotional cost of prolonged pressure and unspoken dependency. Rather than dramatizing addiction or pain, Laurent lets the songs sit uncomfortably in those spaces. The arrangements remain sparse, allowing silence, reverb, and breath to carry as much weight as distorted guitars or rhythm changes.

Tracks like “pardon me if i breakdown” and “crashout” hint at emotional implosion without ever fully exploding. There’s a remarkable sense of control here, reinforcing the feeling of someone holding themselves together by sheer willpower. “L’appel du vide” leans into existential unease, its title alone suggesting the dangerous pull of self-destructive thoughts, while “Dancing with the Devil” closes the album not with resolution, but with awareness—an uneasy acknowledgment rather than redemption.

What makes Laugh at the Tragedy compelling is its refusal to offer easy answers. Written and recorded in just six sleepless days during a period of personal and financial turmoil, the album captures exhaustion as a texture, not just a theme. Despite the darkness surrounding its creation, there’s an underlying resilience in Laurent’s approach: a stubborn decision to keep moving, even when laughter is the only response left.

As James Laurent prepares to release his third album in February and a fourth in March, Laugh at the Tragedy stands as a crucial chapter in his artistic evolution. It’s a deeply personal, quietly devastating indie rock record—one that values honesty over comfort, vulnerability over spectacle, and reflection over resolution.

Alternative oasis for Degens & Divas – James Laurent