At first glance, it seems the new release by Glass Animals is heavily influeced by vaporwave. The album art and several interludes on the tracklist with “home movie” incorporated into the titles are a dead giveaway.
The title track kicks off the album with a dreamy vaporwave soundscape, ditching the more organic sounding synth effects in Zaba for something more akin to floating in the clouds. Only one track in, and I’m already intrigued. Will this have the “replay factor”? We’ll see.
“Tangerine” is a pivot away from that floating in the clouds into familiar Glass Animals territory. Picture a dance club in the middle of a conservatory—the kind that houses exotic plants in a greenhouse, not the type that is a college for students of music, and you’ll get a hint of what I mean.
“Hot Sugar” is a title with sensual implications, and I almost don’t want to look at the lyrics to be honest. I’m content with leaving the vibe to my wholesome imagination. In my mind’s eye, our imaginary dance club in the middle of the conservatory is getting toward twilight. It’s golden hour, and the climate is the same as it ever was, comfortable and peaceful. Yet, the natural lighting is trending golden, and those neon LEDs are starting to cut through the plants and cast some pastel hues on the partiers.
“Space Ghost Coast to Coast” is most interesting cut on the album thus far. It mixes cutting social commentary, a beat that frankly just slaps, and references aplenty to my youth. I mean: GTA? Doom? Quake? I was never super into first-person shooter video games (save N64’s Goldeneye), but I had many friends that were. Add in a title that references that adult-humor influenced vintage show on Cartoon Network that I watched on repeat with little awareness of what they were actually saying, and I realize it’s a fitting metaphor for what this song is really about. How often are we content to be entertained without awareness of the bigger issues happening right under our noses?
Back to our imaginary dance club in the conservatory. “Tokyo Drifting” functions, in my mind, as a transitional track into the nighttime era of partying, and “Melon and the Coconut” is both a temporary reprieve from the “pre-party” part of the evening and an invitation to the revelers to get lost in what the rest of the evening has to offer. Its chill vibe also beckons the revelers to pay closer attention to what is being said, but will they? The vaporwave synth melodies echo this sentiment in one ethereal question, on repeat over and over in the background.
Almost nothing needs to be said about the next track, “Your Love (Deja Vu).” It’s just a banger. Nearly effortlessly cool.
“Waterfalls Coming Out of Your Mouth” has a good message but in my opinion leans too much into graphic imagery to communicate its point. That being, that people often alter themselves too much in the early stages of a relationship—blinded by interest and an idea of what could be. This is undoubtedly a common part of the human experience, and I commend Glass Animals for drawing attention to this, in their own cotton-candy-effervescent way.
“Domestic Bliss” isn’t a track that lends itself to beating around the bush at all—it’s cutting, but in a different way than the rest of album. For our imaginary revelers in the conservatory club, I imagine some of them leaving the party to go sit on a bench and stare at a waterfall and contemplating it all—red lighting forming the ambience to echo the (com)passion and conflict.
“Helium” plays out in a pensive way. You might be asking if all the buildup across the album was for naught—but perhaps partying wasn’t the point. Perhaps it was to think, and zone out a bit, and have some fun along the way. That’s more my style anyway. Default pensive mode, remaining in the background taking it all in, and trying to have some fun along the way. I still want to visit that conservatory, though.
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