Wild Nothing
Gemini

In my room, the mirror reflects a slender and astonished figure. It's still me, smeared with pastel hues that fade in the late afternoon of this excited and silent November. The stereo plays "Gemini" by Wild Nothing, an ethereal lo-fi creation by Jack Tatum, an unknown and eclectic singer-songwriter from Virginia in his first endeavor, and the walls dissolve, the floor melts under the weight of a sugary shoegaze caramelized that fills the entire room with very eighties dream-pop sounds. It's a very light aroma of the eighties that is released. Of the softer and anesthetized eighties, those of the dreamy Cocteau Twins, the ecstatic My Bloody Valentine, the dreamy Cure. Inside the room, time stops, dripping honey and rays of filtered light through the half-closed shutters. I wouldn't leave here anymore if I didn't know that evening is arriving outside and something beautiful.

The ethereal indie-pop creation that is "Gemini" dazes and stupefies just like its shy and solitary 'Summer Holiday' and 'Chinatown', true main pieces of the album. Everything drips with fleeting dreamy reinterpretations ('Live In Dreams', 'O, Lilac') in a colorful revival halfway between the feverish pains of Radio Dept and the jangle-pop ones of The Pain Of Being Pure At Heart. Sometimes it feels like playing hide and seek with the more carefree New Order ('Bored Games'), sometimes with the more ecstatic Cure ('Gemini') in a whirling carousel of blinding electro-pop reverberations ('The Witching Hour' and 'Our Composition Book').

Dreams and mirages, memories and souvenirs of a decade anesthetized by time and never completely forgotten. A chronic adolescence beneath layers of liquid guitars ('My Angel Lonely') and melancholic keyboards in chiaroscuro ('Drifter') diluted by a highly filtered drum machine and a slurred singing as a sweet and bitter muffled lullaby.

With its scarce 45 minutes, 'Gemini' is a pleasant distraction that tastes of soda, bubbles, syrup, and extinguished cigarettes, and tonight I'm thirsty and feel as light as a cloud, the color of a soap bubble, the scent of icing sugar, and I don't care if my blood sugar rises and my defenses lower, if my thoughts wink and my hands seek it. Tonight, I just want to get lost in this 'wild nothing' and never take my eyes off it again.