For all the beauty and simplicity that Souvenir Driver accomplishes it is an album that is not devoid of confrontation or difficulty. There are moments here where vulnerability and the expressions of longing are so acute, the pressure forces a breathlessness. Driftwood is a track where Wey’s voice scales to a new height to sing Maybe I love you or is it Baby, I Love you? The tempo rocks back and forth like a person becoming a metronome, swaying under some kind of insomniac burden. It’s almost too much. It’s fantastic. There’s not a weak spot in this collection – but tracks like Dive, Photographs and Voices of a Traveler could be played on loop until all sense of self are washed away and few would complain. The Jungian-dream quality of these tracks especially offer a disconnect and yet also a sense of belonging – the collective unconscious of all things. And, of course, they sound better played loud. Traveling quickly through the tracks it would be easy to tag this stuff as shoegaze – but quite the opposite description is required. Dream pop wonder blends with indie rock instrumentation. Elements swirl and become wonderfully dizzying – this album is a stargazer. Everything feels big here, and even though the celestial scale tips weight against our own petty concerns – our own petty concerns are handled with respect and awe and a sense of scale. This album, like all good art, points to the interdependence of all things. It’s really quite beautiful. Souvenir Driver have defined themselves well. 

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