With the swish of a bleach blonde bob, Canadian dream-pop band Alvvays is back with their sophomore album, Antisocialites.
The record is the follow up to the group’s 2014 self-titled debut which featured a delicate balance between sweet melodies and verses that lacked sugar coating.
Alvvays’ sound, described most often as dream-pop, jangle-pop, or lo-fi is nothing novel. In fact, the group is that enjoyable local indie band from your hometown that your friend drunkenly swears will just “make it one day, you know?”.
They’re most frequently compared to Best Coast, Camera Obscura, and many others. Alvvays is made more of other band’s sounds and techniques rather than their own, but they pull it off well.
Lead singer Molly Rankin established herself as the aggressively hopeless romantic yet world-weary narrator of the band’s wistful debut album.
The popular single, “Archie, Marry Me” solidified the band’s endearing tendency to romanticize even the most disappointing situations.
Where Alvvays nearly took pride in its carefully crafted brand of defiant naivité, Antisocialites has succumbed to a sense of maturity, at least lyrically. Rankin’s preoccupation with water survives through beachy tunes and lyrics, and a summery feel remains at surface level.
Upon further listening, Antisocialites feels to be a wise, melancholic end-of-summer musing that contrasts the debut’s spring-like sad hopefulness.
A safe transition that should satisfy fans of the last album, the change from their previous work is subtle but welcome.
The album’s singles and first three tracks, “In Undertow”, “Dreams Tonite”, and “Plimsoll Punks” establish a strong opening. The slightly shoegaze-y “In Undertow” hints that this could be a break-up album, where the narrator has let go of the desperate grasp she had on the failing relationship illustrated in Alvvays.
Rankin has clearly not lost some romantic habits though, like longing after strangers in the street, heard in “Adult Diversion” off the last album. In the chorus of “Dreams Tonite”, she croons: “If I saw you on the street/would I have you in my dreams tonight?”
But “Plimsoll Punks” is a fun, punchy break that indulges in the sugary-sweet feeling of jangle-pop by letting it materialize in lyrics that include “strawberry ice cream.”
The track’s annoyed, biting attitude towards the assumed romantic subject is refreshing. “You’re the seashell in my sandal/That’s slicing up my heel,” she sings.
The album’s newfound confidence satisfies in stand-out tracks like “Not My Baby” and “Your Type.”
In “Your Type”, she sings “I die on the inside every time/I will never be your type” in a rollercoaster melody that makes the juvenile, dejected lyrics sound somehow triumphant.
No longer reaching for ideal relationships or situations, the track “Already Gone” summarizes the maturation of Alvvays perfectly; instead of needing to be in the ocean, Rankin sings happily, “A vat of chlorine’s close enough I guess.”
The album closes with a song distinct from the rest of the album, “Forget About Life.” Slower and more straightforwardly melancholic, the album closes with the invitation, “Do you want to forget about life with me tonight?” It’s a generic line, but an effective wrap-up to the album that returns to the band’s core.
Although Alvvays may have grown up a bit, they still have the urge to return to their dreamy escapism, if only for a night.
Antisocialites proves to be a satisfying sequel. A more refined and grown-up album is created with both a slight step away from lo-fi to crisper instrumentals and a more stoic lyrical tone.
The band will never lose its lyrical and instrumental haze, but Antisocialites benefits from the coming of age that discards the desperate narrator from its predecessor.
