With a title that frames the dimming light as more than a shift in the sky, ‘When the Sun Goes Down’ by London-based indie pop artist Cinema sinks into dusk with the kind of melancholia that only surfaces when you’re caught between the tendrils of longing. Through emotive vocal inflections, Cinema transforms a quiescent lo-fi folk-adjacent soundscape into an affecting invitation to feel the claws of compassion as you listen to the diehard romantic candour.
There’s no sleight of hand behind the heart-stirring honesty—just the kind of stripped-back introspection that sharpens with every whispered syllable and picks its battles with silence. With the same evocative intimacy as Cultdreams tied in with more mainstream indie folk pop appeal, Cinema has scored the ultimate formula to break out of the mainstream. The production refuses to rush, giving space to each aching note to stretch and settle under your skin, proving that emotional weight doesn’t need orchestral theatrics to be devastatingly impactful.
In the same way Frightened Rabbit disarms you with the artful agony, Cinema, with When the Sun Goes Down, takes the sum of its parts and calculates it into a profoundly moving sensory experience. If you needed any proof that there’s beauty in vulnerability, it’s in black and white in the kaleidoscope of unflinching confession of unconditional love which veers away from cliché, hitting all the right chords to attest to the striking sincerity with which it was composed and performed.
When the Sun Goes Down is now available to stream on all major platforms, including SoundCloud.
Review by Amelia Vandergast.
