Review Summary: I can think of one,
but that can wait. As noted on the Bandcamp page for Australian (post-?)rock trio sleepmakeswaves’ latest LP, not everything we see or experience needs to be assigned language. This mostly instrumental act ironically hadn’t been at a loss for words before now—bearing the ubiquitous, universal poetry held dear by so many of their peers, releases like
In Today Already Walks Tomorrow or
...And So We Destroyed Everything harnessed grandiosity through tight-lipped taxonomy and powerful performance. Their titles were guides, not prescriptions, and more importantly, the band could strut even more extravagantly than they spoke. By the late aughts and early 2010's, in a scene where that brand of cosmic existentialism became as passé as the easier jokes leveled against the genre (“all they do is crescendo,” etc.—I know you’ve read forums), the run of the mill packaging shrouded much of this band’s stellar discography from wider appreciation.
It didn't help that their permutation on the post-rock formula—one that utilized upbeat tempos, blunt mixing, and electronic elements—diverged from the sprawling orchestral strain popularized by Godspeed You! Black Emperor and Sigur Ros, seemingly intent on scrubbing the prefix from the term instead of the root. Their riffs riffed, their melodies stuck, you could dance, bob, or headbang to them, and at the heart of it all, their treble-heavy tremolo leads and flowing song structures still held paramount the art of the payoff. This amalgamation of tropes came to a momentary peak on the band’s 2014 record
Love of Cartography, but from that point onward, they regressed into a more comfortable version of themselves, one that simply didn’t keep the bar raised high enough to revel in their modest reputation as outliers, musicians who could walk the line between post-rock’s out-of-body levitation and
rock rock’s blood, sweat, and tears. 2017’s
Made of Breath Only and 2020’s EP compilation
These Are Not Your Dreams were simply less memorable, passive interpretations of an already tired phenomenon.
So how
this came hurtling back to us, I’m not really sure. I do know that
It’s Here, But I Have No Names For It is a return to form and then some. “All Hail Skull” and “Super Realm Park” represent a propulsive reunion of interplay and bombast, Tim Adderley pounding the absolute hell out of his kit while bassist Alex Wilson and guitarist Otto Wicks-Green flex around his marching rhythms. It’s punchy, it’s buzzy, it’s fuckin’
L O U D, and while there’s a sleek veneer to it, too, conveying the energy takes top priority. Unlike the similar techniques employed by say, And So I Watch You From Afar (rifferinos who don’t always pull off coherent songs) or Russian Circles (who chug so thunderously their drive can distort into drudgery), sleepmakeswaves reclaim the center of the Venn diagram where compositional fluidity and compact chemistry promise one hell of a rewarding listen.
The early rush is fleshed out with pockets of ambience and more prominent synth work (“Black Paradise,” “Verdigris”), straightforward, shuffling bangers (“Ritual Control,” “Terror Future”—love those vocals on the latter) and archetypal albeit fulfilling slow burners (t/t, “This Close Forever”), each arc within the record serving as a palatable portion on its own and a coalescent piece of the larger picture. Single moments—those cornerstones of post-rock clutched so dearly by acts who need to lead
somewhere to justify suites of blank space and anticipation—aren’t really the focus here; they exist, and they’re veritably badass when they make themselves known, but sleepmakeswaves’ rejuvenated, jubilant synergy is the bigger draw, and there are only so many ways to convey that without just hearing it for yourself and letting it energize and enrapture you.
It’s Here... is oh so splendidly here and on par with the band's best work, and since I needn’t be as modest as the guys who created it, I can think of one other title I’d gladly bestow upon it: 2024’s leading contribution to the post-rock canon.
