The Reds, Pinks & Purples cares more about crafting dreamy, post-punk flavored indie more than the oxford comma. The latest offering of Glenn Donaldson is hazy and nostalgic, though not for any particular time or place. Uncommon Weather‘s features pastel-colored homes in what seems to be an undisclosed major city (assumedly, San Francisco). It’s the sort of scene that feels like the opening to a sitcom. The sentiments here, visually and sonically, feel both near and far. Everything is familiar enough to stir the soul yet distant enough to feel unobtainable.

Much like post-punk itself, Donaldson’s lyrics are few of pining and lament. “I hope I never fall in love,” he cries on the track of the same name. There’s just enough reverb on the vocals of the album to give an ethereal edge. These are not the most technical tracks, but they’re conscious of emotional dynamics.

The overall vibe is akin to being gently shaken awake. There’s an amorphous restfulness and beauty competing with the unsettling reality of the waking world. Uncommon Weather is outwardly beautiful and inwardly painful. It’s a polaroid of a friend you haven’t seen in years. This is an introspective record that asks some tough questions, though it does so with care. It’s conversational and confessional.

But don’t mistake the dreaminess with low-energy dullness. These are decently-paced tracks with full band instrumentation. And this makes all the difference. At times, some of the songs feel a bit short as a result of the pacing (several are just around two minutes), but the lack of commitment to any standard length expectation is actually refreshing. Things are not drawn out or too repetitive. Instead, these songs feel incredibly balanced and organic. Tracks tend to cycle in and out quickly, and I found myself surprised how quickly I hit the end on my first listen through, thinking perhaps something had been skipped. This wasn’t because I felt it was too short, but more because I thoroughly enjoyed the record and hoped perhaps there were more gems I had yet to hear. Alas, the album is truly 35 minutes long – but earnestly, not a moment of this adventure is dull.

In in all, Donaldson balances extremes. This is neither dream pop nor synthwave, though arguably elements of both are at play. This is a tender, nostalgia-inducing album that neither forfeits energy nor lyrical prowess. And frankly, it’s one of the most consistent albums I’ve heard in quite some time. All the more exciting for the first “signed” LP of this new project.

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