Written by: Dave Cantrell

Look, I’m just going to publish this and pretty much get out of its way. Soulful, ethereal, totally fucking convincing, this is the magic of pop indie music’s most immutable potential made manifest. Citing the likes of Radiohead and Sigur Ros, Aphex Twin and Björk, we have here – for once – a band (named, of all fucking things, after a bloody Vladimir Nabokov story) not overestimating their potential but very likely underplaying it. This is why I pay attention, this is why I have ever cared in the first place. When the first listen to a song raises shivers of joy up and down your arms, you know you’re in some fucking special territory. Not since Northern Arms have I felt this sense of compositional completeness, as if the track’s very essence presented itself fully formed like a Stephen Dedalus fever dream. Cloud Castle Lake. Remember that name like you remembered the name Cocteau Twins, but be prepared to jettison your love for the latter for the glowingly luminous loveliness of that former. We’re in a new consciousness here and we should all rejoice. [feature image courtesy the band]