An artist’s capability to transform suffering into great work is one of humanity’s great phenomena. When considering the “divorce” subcategory of suffering and the “music” subcategory of art, the manifestation has traditionally tended toward the dirge (e.g. Dylan’s “Blood On The Tracks,” Mitchell’s “Blue). Please, Sondre Lerche’s stunning new album, however, is a different animal: despite aligning with a recent divorce from his wife of eight years, it is brimming with crisp electronic flourishes, bold, economic production, and an infectious new energy and sense of purpose. Lerche doesn’t just transform his suffering into art on Please–which was recorded between his hometown of Bergen and Brooklyn, his home-of-nine-years–he shows us how he’s doing it. The juxtaposition of romantic idealism and the chaotic struggle to live up to said ideals is meticulously explored: for the first time in his career, Lerche is presented unraveled. The moans and wails are unedited, and the cutting room floor is clean. Lerche has always written about love, but never in such a primal, sexual way. His well-proven melodic instincts are sharper than ever, but he's moved from the brain to the body, from the soulful to the physical. The struggles themselves become the songs.