Following in the footsteps of their 2014 self-titled debut, an album that initially paved the ground for the Canadian four-piece, Alvvays return with their dream-pop sophomore release, Antisocialites. Dream-pop was the sound of 2014 to an extent, The War On Drugs released their take on the epic American landscape with Lost In The Dream, Cloud Nothings pulled out their hazy escape route with Here & Nowhere Else and Warpaint helped set the initial carvings with their lustful second album. It was a sound, arguably taken from The Horrors’ reincarnation of all things shoegazing and starry-eyed. Either way, it can be seen as a quick glimpse into a 90s stylistic choice that can only ever survive a short-lived lifespan.

This is where Antisocialites largely succeeds and fails though. It’s fantastic for everybody who wants another slice of that slightly self-conscious, narcissistic cake, for anybody who wishes for something new, you’re perhaps best turning your ears elsewhere. Where their debut proved to sparkle truly was within the album’s anthemic hooks, ‘Archie, Marry Me’ and ‘Adult Diversion’ in particular set a mammoth bar for any copycat bands of 2014. Antisocialites tries to put forward these same musical aesthetics with the opener, ‘In Undertow’, coming closest to the gold, but elsewhere the stagnant attempt at reigniting the true lush splendour found on their debut fails.

The brightness and optimism found on the album, although nice to behold, becomes horribly repetitive at times and slightly distancing for you the listener. Where it works nicely is on the likes of ‘Lollipop (Ode To Jim)’ which erupts through The Jesus & Mary Chain guitar squalls into rapid-fire glee and ‘Dreams Tonite’, a number which lands on a slightly more melancholic note, with singer Molly Rankin reminiscing on lost love through self-questioning reflection. It grows blood weary though. ‘Plimsoll Punks’ harks to the darker times of ‘indie-landfill’ with misfiring jangly guitar-pop and ‘Hey’, although showing glimmers of wit (“Molly Mayhem on your doorstep at 3am), feels awkwardly cliché. Lyrics by and large on Antisocialites represent relationship bickering, teenage escapism and getting “blind drunk in an alleyway”. I mean, come on, we were all 18 once weren’t we but can we grow up now?

This is perhaps the problem though – whereas their first album pinpointed a particular time for any late teen/early 20-something, where there’s supportive guidance and light at the end of the tunnel, it’s as if Alvvays, and perhaps in particular Rankin’s lyrics, haven’t moved on since then. ‘Your Type’, for example, outlines the other person in the narrative not being the right type of lover: “Let me state delicately you’re an O and I’m AB” – you’d have hoped she might have slightly better ideas now giving we are three years on. Thematically, it’s not particularly groundbreaking stuff.

As mentioned previously, it’s not necessarily all doom and gloom for Antisocialites. Rankin and co, even when falling smack bang into pits of clichéd soppiness, occasionally manage to tap upon the vein that made their debut so great. ‘Saved By A Waif’ explodes with distortion into big pop hooks, this one in particular sounding uncannily like a certain 90s number, whereas the album closer, ‘Forget About Life’, clambers under a thick coating of organs and rumbling percussion.

Perhaps this is the point though, are Alvvays in fact pulling the wool over our eyes somewhat and purposefully trying to be the Peter Pan of indie-pop? Perhaps we don’t need another oh-so-serious shoegaze band, and Alvvays are putting on the table romantically tangible lyrics for the kids of today (again). Is this just the first sure fire way of telling that I am becoming a miserable cynic? ‘Forget About Life’ outlines the ways of eclipsing reality and you know what, maybe this is what we are supposed to do because everybody likes a quick method of escape every now and then.

Ultimately, I’m not quite buying the package this time around though. I can appreciate the sentiment in what Rankin and co are going for, I just feel slightly mugged off this time. It feels somewhat condescending to have Rankin and co telling me about escape and lost love again, in exactly the same method just three years later. I wanted more this time, more from the hooks and more from the lyrics, not smug remarks and lacklustre attempts at wit. Sorry.

Tom Churchill

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