The album dusky psychedelic pop is covered in so much haze that, despite serious musical detours, tracks tend to blend together. It’s a good blend, though.
A blend of teenage angst and a primordial, animalistic sense of something lurking beneath a thin surface, a beastly shape clawing at the other side.
The record listens like an all-night jam at an impossibly cool bohemian gettogether. It’s funky, relaxed, audacious, exhausting... but above all, it’s brilliant.
Tracks swirl about at a slower pace than in Bicep’s debut. It often feels as though in creating a ‘home version’ they have instead cut out the excitement.
Part dramatic dream, part sun-soaked soliloquy, part love letter to mid-century pop rock, Midnight Sister have sewn together a wistful, woozy record.
Never does the record come off as grandiose or self-important; it’s just that good, and it’s just that much fun. Not a masterpiece, but a master at work.
Unabashedly grim, but reassuringly gentle. The album's striking cover art of a menacing but fragile old man is a good indicator of what to expect.
Relentless and unpredictable, the album's like the spawn of a Satanic ritual in a theme park. It’s oppressive and challenging, but also warm and charming.
The harmonies are wonderful, the instrumentation is charming, and, well, everything sounds rather bloody marvellous. Lots to love and little to dislike.
There is a huge amount of musical and lyrical ingenuity to enjoy here, with strong messages, jovial piss takes, and Joe Talbot as the megaphoned town crier.