The secret won’t stay tucked between the cracked folds of memory for long after The Secret Radio let loose their sepia-sweet sonic artefact, Alphaville. It plays like a half-sighed confession from someone who knows that surviving isn’t the same as thriving, and thriving is a luxury rationed out behind closed doors. There’s nothing overtly cynical about the delivery, but the malaise simmers, carried aloft by breezy melodic indie rock that sounds like it soaked too long in the sun alongside a weathered tape deck.
Beginning with the hue of lo-fi college radio rock, the arrangement moves like it was spliced together from faded footage of the early 00s, conjuring nostalgia without force. The transitions are languidly lush and surf-tinged; eventually, the release shifts its gaze towards something more rustic and dust-bitten. Accordions swell in the latter half, grazing against the same delicate disquiet that Neutral Milk Hotel used to tether their eccentricities. But rather than slipping into reverence or pastiche, the construction of the track feels like an unfinished sketch that caught the right light and was left unchanged.
Formed in 2006, The Secret Radio first etched their identity across New York City’s venues, before time, life, and geography pulled them apart. But the songs didn’t scatter. They were stored, archived, reworked, and revived through the lens of the pandemic, led by Damian Fowler, who returned to those dusty recordings with Bebbo and producer Asen Doykin. As they prepare for the release of their debut album, Shortwave, Alphaville sets the tone, nostalgic but not sentimental, sceptical but not sour.
Alphaville is now available on all major streaming platforms, including Spotify.
Review by Amelia Vandergast
