Alt-J build on the sonic world they made, for better or worse.

When they came on the scene, Alt-J inherited astronomical levels of hype. Their wavy, grainy production lifted their kooky, jolting hooks in the ear-perking debut, An Awesome Wave. The new indie! The new Radiohead! Well, that was 10 years ago. And after coming off the stove boiling, many critics posited that simply blowing on it revealed that Alt-J was serving nothing more than a lot of spice on top of some bland ingredients. It didn’t hold up. The band’s been panned, parodied, and pushed around for their whole career. And all the while, a growing fanbase has been packing concert halls, parading, and prizing the band all the way! Obvious comparisons and blows didn’t really take these guys out. Four albums in, there’s still no one doing it quite like Alt-J, probably for the best.

Like it or hate it, their sound is undeniably unique. When “Hard Drive Gold” or “U&ME” jump out of that radio speaker, you may swerve or honk, slap that driver’s wheel, or nod vigorously, but you will identify, it’s Alt-J. The growling, helix-like vocal melodies, the impressive production floating at times like feathers and driving like T-Rex’s at others, the prioritising of sound and atmosphere which can switch out any second for a sample or some foley, it’s all there.

Looking back, their immense popularity can be handed to these comforting attributes, or at least to their consistency. All four albums have held honestly timeless bangers and deep-cut glories. There are the hits like “Breezeblocks” and “Left-Hand Free”, the fan-favourites like “Tesselate” and “3WW”, and the simply fantastic tracks (“Taro”, “Nara”, the infinitely remixable “Deadcrush”). The Dream adds comfortably to this repertoire. It takes the approach of breadth over depth by delivering a fresh batch of diverse influences and genres and diluting them through the Alt-J fisheye lens.

The greatest fault of this band, which this album attempts to capitalise on, is a feeling that the music is kind of shallow. Sure, there are stand-out tracks on their previous albums, and some songs that have really stood the test of time. But there’s this one-dimensionality that Alt-J bring to their music that leaves one walking away having achieved almost nothing as a listener. It’s like a fun gimmick, per say. Oh “soggy clothes and Breezeblocks” are a such wild images! But beyond being interesting, does their sound really hit you, like, in your heart (besides “Ms”)? That’s the issue. The Dream attempts to get deep, and it does so precisely half the time.

The best example of success on this album is “Get Better”, an emotive, encapsulating, beautifully melodic, and damn moving track. It seems to be about the passing of the singer, Joe Newman’s partner during the COVID-19 pandemic.. There is a literary magic in Newman watching out his window as first-responders attempt to save a family from a car crash. He is so pulled into this scene, he leaves his home to deliver flowers to the medics mid-jaws-of-life mission. This ends with him averting eyes from a white sheet going over the family, as the perspective in the song shifts to him assuring himself he will recover from his own personal loss, the death of the song’s real subject.

“Powders” is another strong track about falling in love in the simplest ways, in this case while shopping. Imagery of “floral notes” and “powders in between palms” float into this sweet narrative, along a slow, riffy track. So much of this album in fact has a thematic through-line with small nostalgic dialogue samples creating an atmosphere of a deep, emotive dream. The dream is one for a future free of growing old (on “Bane”) and of our personal goals going awry (“The Actor”). It is overall transportive, to a realm where Alt-J is aware of their own influence and their uniqueness in sound space. Even “Philadelphia”, one of the better tracks, has this richness, a baroque or chamber pop twist a minute in that is so discernably Alt-J.

But ultimately the hollowness perseveres stubbornly. “Walk a Mile” and “Delta” are both just so uneventful they almost sink the entire album. Yes, even that poppy single “Hard Drive Gold” is unnecessary and not fun enough to earn it’s hooting and hollering. Perhaps Alt-J works best when they are shimmering yet curmudgeonly. That way, the gimmicks and unusual sonics distract from the alien feeling of listening to their music. There is certainly a price in having a velvety, Velcro voice back songs about childhood Cola addiction and attempting to lift some Chicago-style house (“Chicago”).

This album is no doubt one of Alt-J’s best, but that does little to reassure a listener of its quality. Its company is so inscrutable and at times frustrating that even the best moments still remind one of the band’s worst moments. Looking at The Dream just on its own, you are sure to be engulfed with its refreshing intricacies while also stumbled by its complications. The grayness and lack of cohesion throw the listener into shark infested waters. Anyone who wants to dive in should know it’s sink or swim.