Wild Nothing

Two years ago, Jack Tatum rocketed to the top of the contemporary indie-rock pile with Wild Nothing's retro-minded debut, Gemini. After much speculation as to what could follow such a charming, wistful reflection on '80s dream-pop, Nocturne is released; it's a confident pastel portrait of teenage longing and restless, lovelorn nights. The album still trades in Tatum's hallmark disconnected vocals, distorted staccato guitars and gated reverb snares, making for a potent, intoxicating whole, while shunning some of Gemini's more passive elements. Album opener "Shadow," with its driving, syncopated hook, sets the tone well, giving the impression that Tatum's starting to let go a bit more rather than keeping his usual calculated distance. "Through The Grass" is a dizzying blend of crooked rhythms with a growl of a chorus, while the whirring synths of album closer "Rheya" denote a step towards new ground without straying too far from the Wild Nothing formula. While a slight step forward, Nocturne, like all of Wild Nothing's output to date, still inhales all of its influences ― the women, the hurt, the favourite records stuck on late night repeat ― and exhales them in to a beautiful, swirling, ethereal cloud.