That said, the insistence for For Tracy Hyde to fall back on daydreaming about a more romanticized version of the past in Ethernity also echoes tragic. While Ethernity is on, For Tracy Hyde provides the vehicle in which to indulge and escape into such sweet, wide-eyed fantasies. The point is clear: they’d rather be anywhere but here and now. “ Blockbuster, Coke, pizza, and I love you,” vocalist eureka sings in part one of “Interdependence Day,” transporting listeners to an imaginary America of a past decade part two sends us even deeper into a more glamorous, alternate timeline as it fades in a speech from Barack Obama. Ethernity uniquely pins a specific time and place in which its reminiscences are based. Operating with a sound gossamer in texture and fuzzy at the edges, For Tracy Hyde inevitably runs on nostalgia as its main fuel supply. They cull from the sweet-and-sour grunge of Charly Bliss, the doom of Angelo Badalamenti, the young adult friction of The Pains of Being Pure at Heart: For Tracy Hyde compiles a full 360 look of the heights and capabilities of dream pop. They open with the most explosive fireworks, though that’s only a few tricks they have up their sleeves. Ethernity, then, is their Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming: a full realization of their creative vision at a blockbuster scale. Nathan Stevensįor Tracy Hyde have been earnest about their cinematic ambitions since their debut LP, 2016’s Film Bleu, and the dream-pop band’s approach to crafting albums like movies have often reminded me of the music of M83’s Anthony Gonzalez. But the fact that they can recoil into the micro with just as much skill proves they’re here to stay. The question was never if Squid could go big, they proved that with aplomb. The jangly “Paddling” has a tender heart under all the shuddering guitars and “Documentary Filmmaker” is mostly squawking horns and synths, etching a brief, lonely moment in a wing of a hospital ward. But the surprises are hidden in the smallest moments. Twin monoliths “Narrator” and “Pamphlets” are mammoth depictions of unraveling minds, both unleashing maelstroms of sound. But even by that budding promise, their debut finds them outstripping their own ambition, getting weirder, darker and more vulnerable. At least the soundtrack to this desolate boogie is great.īright Green Field builds on a bevy of EPs and singles that proved the quintet were a pithy, catchy bunch, with unrolling tension bubbling just below their Talking Heads inspired post-punk. Brighton lads Squid allege we’re all stuck in a “Global Groove.” An unending, jittery dance of work, sleep and shock at new horrors unfolding on our phones.
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