Islands

Summer’s here … isn’t it? Hard to tell nowadays what’s going on outside when inside has been converted into an all-mod cons cubicle, the world at your fingertips, the invisible bars of the open prison occasionally allowing redemptive sunbeams to glimpse through and sporadically alleviate the psychological deterioration. When it’s not raining that is.

16 months of being denied and deprived the ability to physically care, share, and bear each others’ (h)arms and stockpiling bottled up feelings, suppressed queries and wondering where’s the escape route out of the fabricated nightmare. So far, so maudlin …

Well, crack open the tonics as Islands are back after a five year absence to offer this perfect elixir of bitter-laced sugar, sweet-graced sourness, asking questions and providing answers in equal measure.

Helmed by ex-Unicorn Nick Thorburn and augmented by brothers Evan Gordon and Geordie Gordon, and Adam Halferty on resultant eight album ‘Islomania’ the Canadian quartet serve up the ideal sonic-beverage to clutch and grasp as we are finally on the verge of being permitted to reenter the tactile zones. Aren’t we? Will we?

Expertly mixing elements of The Cure’s jangle-rock with Grandaddy’s robo-pop nous (‘Carpenter’) with Vampire Weekend’s rhymin’-Simon peppy-prep pop (‘Islomania’), The Charlatans’ melodic melancholy (‘Closed Captioning; ‘Set the Fairlight’) and even managing to add an Arthur Russell flourish (Loose Joint’s ‘Tell you today’ informs the mutant-funk of ‘Natural Law Party’). The affecting ‘Marble’ deploys similar possibilities and vulnerabilities that Connor ‘Bright Eyes’ Oberst explores.

All in all this is superior intelli-pop that warrants, nay necessitates heavy rotation. Each repeated airing a step closer, a move forwards, a gain made.

Standout ‘A Passionate Age’ is Neil Young’s prescient ‘Computer Age’ reimagined for these rocky times of shifting terrains and perplexing plateaus: part-mournful, part scornful, on here Islands nail the pitfalls and pratfalls of this technologically-obsessed grid-locked net-worked existence.

Dystopic-disco has never sounded such an appealing prospect.