Hatchie
Liquorice

I had been waiting for this day for weeks: the day I would wake up and listen to the new album by Hatchie, aka Harriette Pilbeam. Australian, born in '93, this singer-songwriter is a flag-bearer of Dream pop with Shoegaze echoes that have reached us since the Nineties; perhaps she doesn't reach the peaks of the grand masters Beach House, but she has managed to carve out a place of distinction for herself with a sound that, overall, is less frosty and warmer, more intimate. Dreaming is still dreaming, but in a different way.

Whereas the previous two albums displayed many interesting ideas but at times also rather confusing ones, Liquorice is a much more coherent and compact work. What I can tell you is that, after a rather long and knowingly bland intro—meant to set up the rest—and two tracks that aren't particularly exciting, starting from Carousel the album takes off on a journey into fabulous Dream pop: warm, very sweet but with a few bittersweet notes, lush like a plant from Eden, with small, clever variations—a Dream pop that speaks not only of love, but also of heart and sun. Hatchie's influences are always clear and present, from My Bloody Valentine to a contemporary band like the excellent Alvvays (Anchor), even though the songs sometimes have a rock edge—Wonder—or a vaguely punk feel—the closing track Stuck. I strongly recommend you listen to the album with a good pair of headphones: it will feel like diving into a whirlwind of strawberries, cream and, why not, liquorice, while watching yet another autumn—or perhaps summer—sunset. But words don't really do it justice.

In my opinion, the masterpiece of young Ms. Pilbeam, as well as one of the most successful works of this 2025 that's coming to an end; a must-listen if you enjoy these sounds, and finally, una cosa bella after that basin of vomit of a pseudofilm. Aside from the intro, almost perfect... or maybe perfect precisely because of it?

Alla prossima.