Saint Etienne's twelfth album is their strangest and most satisfying in years, a meditative, after-hours set of hypnagogic ambient experiments, beatless pop vignettes and weightless poetic asides that make for a real special, waking-dream fantasy - the late-year surprise we've been waiting for.
At their best, Saint Etienne captured the zeitgeist, stewing electropop and nascent club sounds on 'Foxbase Alpha' back in 1991, dub and indie dancefloor-ready house on 'So Tough', and even pre-empting the folktronica movement on 1994's 'Tiger Bay'. So although their last album, 2021's 'I've Been Trying to Tell You', was an exercise in nostalgia that examined the collective memory, 'The Night' is completely different, a celebration of after-hours moods that simmers trace elements of the band's daintiest songs in reverberant textures and calming ambience. Described as "a headphone album" by Bob Stanley, it evolved from IRL studio sessions - their first in years - where they shifted away from the sample-based collage of 'I've Been Trying...', using field recordings of rainfall to link together various crepuscular sketches and improvisations. It's completely captivating from the start: Stanley, Sarah Cracknell and Pete Wiggs urge us to 'Settle In' on the opening track, welcoming us with rattly studio ambience (doors opening and closing, distant pianos) that dissolves into gaseous pads and Cracknell's spoken word.
As rain drips from the windows, a slo-mo song materialises; 'Half Light' is classic Saint Etienne in its own way - brief but perfectly formed with dubby bass and brittle synths bedding Cracknell's saccharine repetitions. But it's the atmospheres the trio dream up on this one that have us so slack-jawed. Inspired by Talk Talk's enduring 'Spirit of Eden' and Virginia Astley's pastoral classic 'From Gardens Where We Feel Secure', they blur electric piano phrases and zither chimes with stifled vocal echoes on 'Through The Glass', evaporating house-y stabs (as if they're subtly referencing 'Only Love Can Break Your Heart') over regal harpsichord reflections on 'Northern Countries East'. "When you were young," Cracknell reminisces on the track of the same name, "times we had, things you said, they're all still in my head." Her words are aerated, floating across delicate, jazzy percussive vamps and fairytale woodwind curlicues as if she's narrating a dream sequence. It sounds as if the band are not just surveying their existence on the fringe of pop, but providing a response that takes stock of contemporary "ambient" obsessions.
While various acts try to make sense of their teenage playlists, knitting trip-hop, indie, dub and dance pop into patchworked soundscapes, Saint Etienne work in the opposite direction, deconstructing their own narrative and contemplating their sizable influence simultaneously. It's not nostalgia, but an effervescent observance that takes three decades of chameleonic experimentation and sublimes it into a giddy hallucination. 'The Night' is their best album in years, one of the best things we've heard this year too.
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Saint Etienne's twelfth album is their strangest and most satisfying in years, a meditative, after-hours set of hypnagogic ambient experiments, beatless pop vignettes and weightless poetic asides that make for a real special, waking-dream fantasy - the late-year surprise we've been waiting for.
At their best, Saint Etienne captured the zeitgeist, stewing electropop and nascent club sounds on 'Foxbase Alpha' back in 1991, dub and indie dancefloor-ready house on 'So Tough', and even pre-empting the folktronica movement on 1994's 'Tiger Bay'. So although their last album, 2021's 'I've Been Trying to Tell You', was an exercise in nostalgia that examined the collective memory, 'The Night' is completely different, a celebration of after-hours moods that simmers trace elements of the band's daintiest songs in reverberant textures and calming ambience. Described as "a headphone album" by Bob Stanley, it evolved from IRL studio sessions - their first in years - where they shifted away from the sample-based collage of 'I've Been Trying...', using field recordings of rainfall to link together various crepuscular sketches and improvisations. It's completely captivating from the start: Stanley, Sarah Cracknell and Pete Wiggs urge us to 'Settle In' on the opening track, welcoming us with rattly studio ambience (doors opening and closing, distant pianos) that dissolves into gaseous pads and Cracknell's spoken word.
As rain drips from the windows, a slo-mo song materialises; 'Half Light' is classic Saint Etienne in its own way - brief but perfectly formed with dubby bass and brittle synths bedding Cracknell's saccharine repetitions. But it's the atmospheres the trio dream up on this one that have us so slack-jawed. Inspired by Talk Talk's enduring 'Spirit of Eden' and Virginia Astley's pastoral classic 'From Gardens Where We Feel Secure', they blur electric piano phrases and zither chimes with stifled vocal echoes on 'Through The Glass', evaporating house-y stabs (as if they're subtly referencing 'Only Love Can Break Your Heart') over regal harpsichord reflections on 'Northern Countries East'. "When you were young," Cracknell reminisces on the track of the same name, "times we had, things you said, they're all still in my head." Her words are aerated, floating across delicate, jazzy percussive vamps and fairytale woodwind curlicues as if she's narrating a dream sequence. It sounds as if the band are not just surveying their existence on the fringe of pop, but providing a response that takes stock of contemporary "ambient" obsessions.
While various acts try to make sense of their teenage playlists, knitting trip-hop, indie, dub and dance pop into patchworked soundscapes, Saint Etienne work in the opposite direction, deconstructing their own narrative and contemplating their sizable influence simultaneously. It's not nostalgia, but an effervescent observance that takes three decades of chameleonic experimentation and sublimes it into a giddy hallucination. 'The Night' is their best album in years, one of the best things we've heard this year too.
Saint Etienne's twelfth album is their strangest and most satisfying in years, a meditative, after-hours set of hypnagogic ambient experiments, beatless pop vignettes and weightless poetic asides that make for a real special, waking-dream fantasy - the late-year surprise we've been waiting for.
At their best, Saint Etienne captured the zeitgeist, stewing electropop and nascent club sounds on 'Foxbase Alpha' back in 1991, dub and indie dancefloor-ready house on 'So Tough', and even pre-empting the folktronica movement on 1994's 'Tiger Bay'. So although their last album, 2021's 'I've Been Trying to Tell You', was an exercise in nostalgia that examined the collective memory, 'The Night' is completely different, a celebration of after-hours moods that simmers trace elements of the band's daintiest songs in reverberant textures and calming ambience. Described as "a headphone album" by Bob Stanley, it evolved from IRL studio sessions - their first in years - where they shifted away from the sample-based collage of 'I've Been Trying...', using field recordings of rainfall to link together various crepuscular sketches and improvisations. It's completely captivating from the start: Stanley, Sarah Cracknell and Pete Wiggs urge us to 'Settle In' on the opening track, welcoming us with rattly studio ambience (doors opening and closing, distant pianos) that dissolves into gaseous pads and Cracknell's spoken word.
As rain drips from the windows, a slo-mo song materialises; 'Half Light' is classic Saint Etienne in its own way - brief but perfectly formed with dubby bass and brittle synths bedding Cracknell's saccharine repetitions. But it's the atmospheres the trio dream up on this one that have us so slack-jawed. Inspired by Talk Talk's enduring 'Spirit of Eden' and Virginia Astley's pastoral classic 'From Gardens Where We Feel Secure', they blur electric piano phrases and zither chimes with stifled vocal echoes on 'Through The Glass', evaporating house-y stabs (as if they're subtly referencing 'Only Love Can Break Your Heart') over regal harpsichord reflections on 'Northern Countries East'. "When you were young," Cracknell reminisces on the track of the same name, "times we had, things you said, they're all still in my head." Her words are aerated, floating across delicate, jazzy percussive vamps and fairytale woodwind curlicues as if she's narrating a dream sequence. It sounds as if the band are not just surveying their existence on the fringe of pop, but providing a response that takes stock of contemporary "ambient" obsessions.
While various acts try to make sense of their teenage playlists, knitting trip-hop, indie, dub and dance pop into patchworked soundscapes, Saint Etienne work in the opposite direction, deconstructing their own narrative and contemplating their sizable influence simultaneously. It's not nostalgia, but an effervescent observance that takes three decades of chameleonic experimentation and sublimes it into a giddy hallucination. 'The Night' is their best album in years, one of the best things we've heard this year too.
Saint Etienne's twelfth album is their strangest and most satisfying in years, a meditative, after-hours set of hypnagogic ambient experiments, beatless pop vignettes and weightless poetic asides that make for a real special, waking-dream fantasy - the late-year surprise we've been waiting for.
At their best, Saint Etienne captured the zeitgeist, stewing electropop and nascent club sounds on 'Foxbase Alpha' back in 1991, dub and indie dancefloor-ready house on 'So Tough', and even pre-empting the folktronica movement on 1994's 'Tiger Bay'. So although their last album, 2021's 'I've Been Trying to Tell You', was an exercise in nostalgia that examined the collective memory, 'The Night' is completely different, a celebration of after-hours moods that simmers trace elements of the band's daintiest songs in reverberant textures and calming ambience. Described as "a headphone album" by Bob Stanley, it evolved from IRL studio sessions - their first in years - where they shifted away from the sample-based collage of 'I've Been Trying...', using field recordings of rainfall to link together various crepuscular sketches and improvisations. It's completely captivating from the start: Stanley, Sarah Cracknell and Pete Wiggs urge us to 'Settle In' on the opening track, welcoming us with rattly studio ambience (doors opening and closing, distant pianos) that dissolves into gaseous pads and Cracknell's spoken word.
As rain drips from the windows, a slo-mo song materialises; 'Half Light' is classic Saint Etienne in its own way - brief but perfectly formed with dubby bass and brittle synths bedding Cracknell's saccharine repetitions. But it's the atmospheres the trio dream up on this one that have us so slack-jawed. Inspired by Talk Talk's enduring 'Spirit of Eden' and Virginia Astley's pastoral classic 'From Gardens Where We Feel Secure', they blur electric piano phrases and zither chimes with stifled vocal echoes on 'Through The Glass', evaporating house-y stabs (as if they're subtly referencing 'Only Love Can Break Your Heart') over regal harpsichord reflections on 'Northern Countries East'. "When you were young," Cracknell reminisces on the track of the same name, "times we had, things you said, they're all still in my head." Her words are aerated, floating across delicate, jazzy percussive vamps and fairytale woodwind curlicues as if she's narrating a dream sequence. It sounds as if the band are not just surveying their existence on the fringe of pop, but providing a response that takes stock of contemporary "ambient" obsessions.
While various acts try to make sense of their teenage playlists, knitting trip-hop, indie, dub and dance pop into patchworked soundscapes, Saint Etienne work in the opposite direction, deconstructing their own narrative and contemplating their sizable influence simultaneously. It's not nostalgia, but an effervescent observance that takes three decades of chameleonic experimentation and sublimes it into a giddy hallucination. 'The Night' is their best album in years, one of the best things we've heard this year too.
Splatter vinyl: coke bottle green base with cream white and dark green splatter.
Out of Stock
Saint Etienne's twelfth album is their strangest and most satisfying in years, a meditative, after-hours set of hypnagogic ambient experiments, beatless pop vignettes and weightless poetic asides that make for a real special, waking-dream fantasy - the late-year surprise we've been waiting for.
At their best, Saint Etienne captured the zeitgeist, stewing electropop and nascent club sounds on 'Foxbase Alpha' back in 1991, dub and indie dancefloor-ready house on 'So Tough', and even pre-empting the folktronica movement on 1994's 'Tiger Bay'. So although their last album, 2021's 'I've Been Trying to Tell You', was an exercise in nostalgia that examined the collective memory, 'The Night' is completely different, a celebration of after-hours moods that simmers trace elements of the band's daintiest songs in reverberant textures and calming ambience. Described as "a headphone album" by Bob Stanley, it evolved from IRL studio sessions - their first in years - where they shifted away from the sample-based collage of 'I've Been Trying...', using field recordings of rainfall to link together various crepuscular sketches and improvisations. It's completely captivating from the start: Stanley, Sarah Cracknell and Pete Wiggs urge us to 'Settle In' on the opening track, welcoming us with rattly studio ambience (doors opening and closing, distant pianos) that dissolves into gaseous pads and Cracknell's spoken word.
As rain drips from the windows, a slo-mo song materialises; 'Half Light' is classic Saint Etienne in its own way - brief but perfectly formed with dubby bass and brittle synths bedding Cracknell's saccharine repetitions. But it's the atmospheres the trio dream up on this one that have us so slack-jawed. Inspired by Talk Talk's enduring 'Spirit of Eden' and Virginia Astley's pastoral classic 'From Gardens Where We Feel Secure', they blur electric piano phrases and zither chimes with stifled vocal echoes on 'Through The Glass', evaporating house-y stabs (as if they're subtly referencing 'Only Love Can Break Your Heart') over regal harpsichord reflections on 'Northern Countries East'. "When you were young," Cracknell reminisces on the track of the same name, "times we had, things you said, they're all still in my head." Her words are aerated, floating across delicate, jazzy percussive vamps and fairytale woodwind curlicues as if she's narrating a dream sequence. It sounds as if the band are not just surveying their existence on the fringe of pop, but providing a response that takes stock of contemporary "ambient" obsessions.
While various acts try to make sense of their teenage playlists, knitting trip-hop, indie, dub and dance pop into patchworked soundscapes, Saint Etienne work in the opposite direction, deconstructing their own narrative and contemplating their sizable influence simultaneously. It's not nostalgia, but an effervescent observance that takes three decades of chameleonic experimentation and sublimes it into a giddy hallucination. 'The Night' is their best album in years, one of the best things we've heard this year too.
CD wallet - with 8 page booklet
Out of Stock
Saint Etienne's twelfth album is their strangest and most satisfying in years, a meditative, after-hours set of hypnagogic ambient experiments, beatless pop vignettes and weightless poetic asides that make for a real special, waking-dream fantasy - the late-year surprise we've been waiting for.
At their best, Saint Etienne captured the zeitgeist, stewing electropop and nascent club sounds on 'Foxbase Alpha' back in 1991, dub and indie dancefloor-ready house on 'So Tough', and even pre-empting the folktronica movement on 1994's 'Tiger Bay'. So although their last album, 2021's 'I've Been Trying to Tell You', was an exercise in nostalgia that examined the collective memory, 'The Night' is completely different, a celebration of after-hours moods that simmers trace elements of the band's daintiest songs in reverberant textures and calming ambience. Described as "a headphone album" by Bob Stanley, it evolved from IRL studio sessions - their first in years - where they shifted away from the sample-based collage of 'I've Been Trying...', using field recordings of rainfall to link together various crepuscular sketches and improvisations. It's completely captivating from the start: Stanley, Sarah Cracknell and Pete Wiggs urge us to 'Settle In' on the opening track, welcoming us with rattly studio ambience (doors opening and closing, distant pianos) that dissolves into gaseous pads and Cracknell's spoken word.
As rain drips from the windows, a slo-mo song materialises; 'Half Light' is classic Saint Etienne in its own way - brief but perfectly formed with dubby bass and brittle synths bedding Cracknell's saccharine repetitions. But it's the atmospheres the trio dream up on this one that have us so slack-jawed. Inspired by Talk Talk's enduring 'Spirit of Eden' and Virginia Astley's pastoral classic 'From Gardens Where We Feel Secure', they blur electric piano phrases and zither chimes with stifled vocal echoes on 'Through The Glass', evaporating house-y stabs (as if they're subtly referencing 'Only Love Can Break Your Heart') over regal harpsichord reflections on 'Northern Countries East'. "When you were young," Cracknell reminisces on the track of the same name, "times we had, things you said, they're all still in my head." Her words are aerated, floating across delicate, jazzy percussive vamps and fairytale woodwind curlicues as if she's narrating a dream sequence. It sounds as if the band are not just surveying their existence on the fringe of pop, but providing a response that takes stock of contemporary "ambient" obsessions.
While various acts try to make sense of their teenage playlists, knitting trip-hop, indie, dub and dance pop into patchworked soundscapes, Saint Etienne work in the opposite direction, deconstructing their own narrative and contemplating their sizable influence simultaneously. It's not nostalgia, but an effervescent observance that takes three decades of chameleonic experimentation and sublimes it into a giddy hallucination. 'The Night' is their best album in years, one of the best things we've heard this year too.