Brooklyn three-piece The Antlers have been responsible for a handful of the most underrated soul-shifting moments in guitar-based indie rock over the last few years, and this, their third album, should see the band cement their place in the genre’s upper echelons, somewhere close to Grizzly Bear. Yet there’s none of debut album ‘Hospice’’s exciting rawness and sharp edges here, and it’s certainly a more considered and consistent affair than that typified in last record ‘Burst Apart’’s more colourful moments.

Opener ‘Palace’ sees the album’s first melancholy shine of brass; slow-burning, poised, and richly beautiful in a way a band like Elbow could only ever dream of, while ‘Doppleganger’ is languorous and lightly jazzy, the kind of song you’d hear in a basement club while a single strand of cigarette smoke curls upward from a lit cigarette. This is clearly a considered album, an effort to produce a single, almost seamless piece of work, but after an opening that promises a golden path into a world of beauty, ‘Familiars’ leads you down the occasional dead end.


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