Solstice for Embodiment, Daydream Twins’ sophomore album, unfolds like a fuzzy memory. It blurs the lines between lust and melancholy, devotion and detachment, wrapped in invigorating synths and pulsating bass.
Released in February, the LP opens with reverb, introspective and irresistibly soft. It captures an expansive array of emotions across 53 minutes, crafting a dreamlike soundscape. Shifting from airy dream pop to crashing waves of noise, lead singer Jordan Terry’s ethereal vocals anchor the 10-track project’s emotional depths. With moments of nostalgia, euphoria, and devastating heartbreak, Solstice captures the fleeting nature of love and time, lingering like a fever dream.
A tale of infatuation, “No Coming Down” begins with a slight dissonance, like wind rushing through cracked car windows. Terry sings of high-stakes romance, teetering between pure joy and crushing heartbreak. Terry’s partner Aidan Babinski, handling nearly all of the album’s instrumentals, soundtracks her lyrics about skirting responsibility, late-night drives, and sharing cigarettes. Amidst the lulling synths, Terry’s falsetto soars: “I’ll take you there / So high that you can’t escape / No coming down / A feeling you can’t replace.” The track evokes the exhilarating, reckless spirit of Ethel Cain’s “American Teenager” – nonsensical, freeing, and terrifying.
Solstice for Embodiment blurs the lines between lust and melancholy, devotion and detachment, wrapped in invigorating synths and pulsating bass.
Though Terry’s chipper voice shines in Solstice’s earlier tracks, which create a more clear dream pop soundscape than Daydream Twins’ earlier releases, she also manages to pierce through a hazy cloud of slow synths in fuzzier seventh track “Aeromancy.” The chorus echoes the sound of “Thule’s Trip Into the Palace of Hallucinogens,” a cut from the band’s 2022 debut. Babinski’s guitar crashes, dissolving into the shore of wine-drunk love and understanding. Terry sings, “Strung out, for whatever reason / I’m such a fan of your kind / Holding out, for what we believe in / Losing, to what we call time.” Noisy and nebulous, the track recalls the comfort of an embrace from someone long lost or the scent of something familiar yet forgotten.
“Versions” and “Wanderlust” break from the band’s signature opacity, opting for a more direct and succinct sound. The fast-slow “Versions” channels 2000s alt-rock with industrial drum beats as Terry sings, “Oh, we’re both so high / Let’s breathe from the other side / And we’ll collide / And look at all that we’ve done / Our world is built just for us / Let’s show them up.” The song captures brash decision-making and wanton jealousy, starkly contrasting the patience and romance woven throughout the rest of the album.
Just when the fog feels overwhelming, “If I Fall” and “Blurring Faces” introduce a fresh clarity, blending the sonic qualities of the Cardigans and Slowdive. “If I Fall” is a resolute declaration of intent. Terry asserts, “While hoping, will I be believed? / Asking forgiveness, it’s just not for me / Heartbreaking, rough stakes in me / I shouldn’t change just to meet all your needs.” She declares her love but refuses to compromise her identity.
In a culmination of lessons learned, closer “Thousand Steps” circles back to the soft, slow reverb of the LP’s beginning. Hope lingers on the horizon as Terry sings, “I’m longing, calling / For a sense of belonging / I’m walking, a thousand steps towards / Life being / The song you sing.” It’s bittersweet yet inevitable, like summer fading into fall. With this poignant conclusion, Solstice for Embodiment leaves one thing certain: Love is always the answer.
Quick Takes on More Local Albums
Glasshealer
Ever Love, Ever Have (self-released)
Experimental quintet’s long-awaited debut full-length combines soft finger-picking, heavy rock, and string drones.
SKLOSS
The Pattern Speaks (Fuzz Club)
Psych-rock couple debuts with fuzz guitar and White Stripes percussion.
Sarah and the Sundays
Like a Damn Dog (AWAL)
Indie rockers’ heartfelt third LP soundtracks breakups and growing pains.
This article appears in March 21 • 2025.