Debut. Sophomore. Comeback. A tidy taxonomy to help index a band’s body of work, each entry carrying its own baggage of meaning and expectation. But there is no good name for a “second post-reunion album,” a shame when you consider how tricky it is to get this one right. In Slowdive’s case, they had 22 years of individual musical evolution before they dropped their self-titled comeback album into a world that has slowly and rightfully fallen in love with them. Fans, new and old, rejoiced. And then…the monumental pressure of the follow-up. 

In the last two decades, entire genres have rippled outward from Slowdive’s original trio of albums. Everything is Alive, released September 1 on Dead Oceans, sees the quintet exploring the musical styles that their work has helped create and shape; primarily, indie dream pop with its union of “real” instruments with electronic structure and atmosphere. Like a tenured English professor writing the intro for a student essay collection, the results feel both erudite and effortless, setting an unfairly high standard for subsequent genre entries. 

The opening sounds of “shanty” could play over the credits of a Villeneuve sci-fi, with Neil Halsted’s thick modular synths and a dulcimer that Massive Attack would be jealous of. It gives way to colossal guitar tones and a skittery driving drum beat, drifting between a light morning rain and a pitch-black storm cell as vocal octaves meld into a single heavenly voice. It’s hard to describe it as anything other than modern Slowdive, as if their hiatus was full of imaginary albums that led them to this evolved sound. 

“prayer remembered” wouldn’t feel out of place on a Pure Moods compilation–minimal and tribal-tinged percussion under a hazy and funereal instrumental, patiently rising into the clear an’ blue sky as it reaches its conclusion. “alife” is a soft, urgent piece that continually ignites with  new tones and melodies before abruptly burning out, a meteor in the atmosphere. 

At the risk of tarnishing a beautiful track with a crass idiom, “kisses” is a real hold-my-beer moment in the world of modern dream pop and everything adjacent. It nails all the genre hallmarks–ethereal vocals, busy and lonely Marr-esque guitar, hopeful melancholy all abound–and upon first listen it feels deceptively generic. Upon repeat plays, though, the genius of the track dawns as powerfully as a “dream of snowfields/high above the trees.” The soundscape is so intentional and organic, an amalgamation of five artists totally committed to simply doing what makes sense, doing what sounds good, doing what feels natural. The result–suprise!–is a record that makes sense, sounds good, and feels natural. If “kisses,” at first blush, fades pleasantly into the background, it’s because it works on such an instinctual level that it floats just below awareness. In an era of overstimulation, “kisses” is satiation. 

It also serves as the first line of a near-perfect quatrain that ends the album. “skin in the game” is a tender showcase for Halstead’s unmistakable voice, with guitars bubbling like cooling magma and a nice vibration, a hum, enveloping the track. The obsessively dialed-in tones of each instrument are nicely distinct, especially the acoustic guitar that eventually joins the swirl of harmony. “chained to a cloud,” an album highlight, takes its time without demanding patience–you could turn it on at any point in its nearly 7-minute length and find yourself nestled in steady drums and arpeggios, with Rachel Goswell’s voice whispering to you like a trusted friend.

Closer “the slab” is a sharp reminder that this is a band with teeth, more than capable of delivering searing post-punk. Vocals are present but lost, like a noise from a distant star, and the music answers the call–assembling and launching a rocket into orbit, all cold metal and controlled flame. Nick Chaplin and Simon Scott shine here as pistons in a monstrous engine, while Christian Savill’s guitar line turns up the heat on Eno’s warm jets to an inferno. It’s ominous, yet somehow remains…extremely pleasant? The underlying chord structure brings a gothic loveliness to “the slab,” transmuting its anxiety into a trancelike state of hopeful readiness. It’s a feat.     

It’s worth noting that Everything is Alive is dedicated to Goswell’s mother and Scott’s father, both of whom passed in 2020. The full breadth of a human life is inscrutable and nearly impossible to define in words or music, and the album doesn’t try. What it does do–remarkably well–is balance melancholy and loss with hope and reflection, so delicately that it’s hard to extricate individual emotions. There are no sad songs or happy songs; just eight tracks with a world of different sentiments, all in kelter. Some artists, over the span of their careers, gain this nuance and maturity at the expense of some of their vitality; Slowdive retains it all.   

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