There’s an expectation that listeners should be in safe hands when checking out the work of long-running, established acts: after all, how would a group like Mother Mother have amassed so many fans without some consistency and quality to their work? If nothing else, the band’s newest record aims to be subversive by blowing that expectations to smithereens— ‘Nostalgia’ is a painful, sluggish, awkward affair that calls into question whether Mother Mother were trying to craft something listenable, or serve up another round of auditory torture.

Even at the conceptual level, the band’s latest work falls short: though the record carries with it the title ‘Nostalgia,’ it has shockingly little to say on the topic (or any of the other themes Guldemond and company attempt to address). If there is a central message that Mother Mother are hoping to convey here, it’s buried under a sea of distractions and poor lyrical choices. Cuts like ‘Namaste,’ ‘To Regret’ and the title track wander through romanticisations of the past, discussing the importance of reflection and overcoming mistakes— even if they were particularly meaningful themes, which we’d be hard pressed to argue, the band insist on exploring them via a childish lens that doesn’t really lend itself to meaningful discussion.

“Nostalgia, you're a scoundrel

You even stole the scent of a candle, oh

Nostalgia, you're a hoarder

You even stole the chord, the minor four”

That message doesn’t properly underpin the album front-to-back though— Guldemond and company dance around a scattered collection of themes and ideas, none of which feel particularly insightful or well-considered. The band approach some moments of sweetness at times, but rarely linger on them: often, the group seem loathe to appear likeable at all, stomping on any goodwill they manage to accrue.

“The world is sick, how did you get in?

You are not like it

You're like the opposite of sin

You show your heart

To any and everyone

It's made of pure love”

We’d be remiss not to mention the baffling inclusion of ‘FINGER,’ which stands as an obvious career lowlight for Mother Mother— though the song’s musical qualities are dreadful enough in isolation, it’s really the cut’s abrasive and ridiculous semantic choices that make it so unbearable to sit through.

“It's funny how a turkey gets stuffed, stuffed, stuffed

And then you roast the b*tch and then you eat it up

But you wouldn't stuff your dog, oh no

You'd let it sleep by a cozy fire log, oh yeah

You'd let it dream about eating turkey bones, oh no

F*cking turkeys in this world, they're all alone”

These lyrical choices (which we’ll generously put down to the result of an acquired taste) are backed by a series of increasingly disheartening musical additions— however dismal you think ‘Nostalgia’ can become, Mother Mother prove that there is always another layer beneath. Vocally, the group commit themselves to their absolute worst traits: Ryan Guldemond’s raspy, overenunciated delivery is nothing less than exhausting, while the continued use of baby voices remains as grating and upsetting as ever. Truthfully, there’s very little auditory amusement to be found— even on a fundamental level, the uncomfortable guitar tones and blaring drum hits that come to define many tracks here make ‘Nostalgia’ a poor-executed project, especially for a group of this caliber.

Musically, the record pulls from a variety of sounds Mother Mother have explored before, even if the level of execution remains consistently poor. A number of tracks lean into an oddly atonal sound— ‘Make Believe,’ as a prime example, continually forces its melodies take adopt increasingly awkward and stilted note choices, though even they aren’t as off-putting as the song’s cringe-worthy spoken word section. ‘FINGER’ is subject to similar criticism, with its warbling synth leads sitting starkly against a wholly unlikeable top-line. It would feel quite redundant to list the plethora of musical irregularities and disappointments packed into ‘Nostalgia,’ as they inhabit near-every corner of the record; the grating hook of ‘ON AND ON;’ the corporate-friendly blandness of ‘Me & You;’ the needlessly tacky piano balladry of ’To Regret.’ Of course, there is the occasional moment of reprieve from this bizarre musical labyrinth— ‘Namaste’ brings with it some sweet notes of melancholy, for instance. Looking at the record holistically though, it’s clear to see that ‘Nostalgia’ is drowning in its own awful writing.

There’s a certain level of detachment that sets in once the realisation that an album is irredeemably dreadful sets in— such is the case when attempting to brave all twelve of these songs. We can only imagine that the record’s title gives away its true purpose of making Mother Mother’s previous projects appear more promising by comparison— if the band were truly attempting to craft something meaningful (or even enjoyable) here, they’ve unfortunately missed the mark by a sizeable degree.