Cults open a new chapter with To The Ghosts

More than 13 years later, the effervescence of their viral megahit “Go Outside” has faded, and from today’s perspective, it’s already not so evident that they were the ones who brought nostalgia into pop long before Dua Lipa’s Future Nostalgia. Looking back, it’s safe to say that without their retro yet fresh approach, Tennis, Alvvays, Tops, Haim, Sky Ferreira, Chvrches, Muna, and many other indie darlings would sound completely different today.

As The White Stripes charmed millions with their signature mix of rock ‘n’ roll and trendy garage sound in the early ’00s, Cults also found an ideal recipe for teen music of the 2010s by combining then and now sonics. Catchy ditties featuring nonconformist lines like “fuck you” and “you’re just in my way” blend perfectly with nostalgic ’60s prom-pop and Oblivion’s slick, modern, synth-filled production. They were a “teen dream” — a bit dark and angry, but an immensely danceable version of dreamy and melancholic Beach House. “But how many communal sing-alongs can a band make before the approach goes stale?” was one of the most prophetic questions of the time.

After a successful debut, their sophomore offering got controversial reviews, alongside “amateur” and “childish” labels from some critics. Over the next decade, they devoted themselves to a step-by-step reinvention of their sound. As a result of these long metamorphoses, To the Ghosts finds them in their most solid and mature form to date. Psychedelic lead single and album opener “Crybaby”, with a chorus out of The Flaming Lips playbook and bell ringing à la Blondie’s “Maria”, gives a promising start to their fifth full-length venture and a whole new era of expansive and reflective sound. Oblivion’s eclectic and saturated production perfectly showcases their desire to grow and develop.

Continuing the course towards brighter and lush indie pop – based on highly synthetic sonics set on Offering and cemented with Host – they eventually landed on radio-ready, pleasingly detailed, and self-sufficient synth-pop. On “Onions”, Follin’s youthful alto even morphs into something akin to Lauren Mayberry’s ethereal and crystalline light lyric soprano, set against a backdrop of futuristic synths verging on “The Mother We Share”. In “Behave”, they go even further, stepping into the territory of sugary, mannered, house-lite club-pop of Sylvan Esso and Jessy Lanza, with Yaeji-evoking beats and glitches. This cut is the most successful rejuvenation of their initial sound.

In 2011-2013, at the peak of the “Abducted”/“Always Forever” era, Follin and Oblivion were green, shy, and extremely petulant teenagers who looked exactly like their restless and geeky silhouettes on the covers of their first two albums. That time is gone. Now, a decade later, they’re experienced musicians who have moved forward from Tarantino-fitting tunes to more thoughtful and nuanced reports on ghosts’ lives and “something wicked this way comes”. “Some man in the street / Strangers in passing / A bitter memory”, recalls Follin, chanting under brassy melodrama evoking Zach Condon and Phantogram-like moody and hypnotic beats, concluding, “I don’t care anymore”.

If Host still kept a piece of their teenage anger, partly caused by pandemic anxiety and uncertainty, To the Ghosts sounds more dreamy, uplifting, and optimistic – sometimes, even too naive with clumsy lyrics like “I chop onions / Then I cry” in “Onions” or “Your love / Is sweet like honey” in “Honey”. Yet, the album is infused with a sense of relief, which is especially noticeable in “Left My Keys”, inheriting “bossa nova beats or more jungle beats” from the previous record, making overall sonics “vaguely tropical”, as Oblivion calls it. Some post-traumatic feelings are also present here, though. “Leave home / Your way / Go riding on a train”, Follin recommends in “Leave Home”, in contrast with Joseph Brodsky’s cult poem Don’t Leave Your Room.

Nonetheless, beneath the surface of the most joyous collection of tunes in their career, a lot of dark, pessimistic, and even ominous thoughts still linger. “To the ghosts / The start and the end are so close”, Follin gently purrs, expressing one of the central ideas of the LP atop deceptively cheerful synths in “Crystal”. “Now there’re no more people that we trust / Almost feel the secrets swallow us whole”, she laments in “Eat It Cold”, questioning herself, “Where are we now?” over an almost Handel’s “Eight Great Suites” harpsichord melody. Sometimes, Follin’s emotionally vulnerable lyricism starkly clashes with Oblivion’s more buoyant production.

Like their artistic bio, To the Ghosts is full of highs and lows, both sonically and lyrically – literally and figuratively. It’s a pleasant journey on a deadly dangerous emotional roller coaster through mental turmoil towards a place of understanding and self-acceptance, culminating in the mystical lovelorn ballad “Hung the Moon”, which could just as easily be a slow dance at a ’50s prom or a lost Angelo Badalamenti tune for the Twin Peaks soundtrack. “Let it saturate / A love in bloom”, warmly summarizes Follin over gorgeous instrumentation with sonorous brass, soothing both herself and the listener.

After all, it’s a profoundly nostalgic record, full of references to their past and different phases in the evolution of indie music, capable of bringing sentimental tears to indiehead old souls. Their debut was so bright and loud that the expectation of their next revolutionary step still hangs in the air. However, the main thing Follin and Oblivion have been trying to do over the last 13 years is find their identity through professional and personal changes. It looks like they finally did it after reflecting on and leaving their past behind – because they “don’t care anymore”. This means that a new era of Cults is now officially open.