Panda Bear’s Sinister Grift is a desert-island getaway fit for troubling times

From social platforms in fascist free-fall to opportunists pushing crypto like it’s still 2021, our virtual age is feeling increasingly like a promise unfulfilled. The digital snake oil salesmen are here, and they just won’t fuck off.

However, it’s the onward march of AI that feels most depressing of all. Steadily closing in on the diminishing territory of artists everywhere, it feels like there’s no shortage of tech bros and oligarchs seeking to turn our already fractured lives into an assembly line of lifeless, committee-approved content sludge. If ever we needed a reminder of human ingenuity and artistic integrity, it’s now.

All of this is to say, I don’t think there’s ever been a better time for a new Panda Bear release to drop.

In a career spanning seven solo studio albums (and even more as part of Animal Collective) Noah Lennox has worked with artists as diverse as Daft Punk, Pantha Du Prince, and Paramore. Yet, outside of 2007’s Person Pitch, it’s never really felt like he’s gotten his flowers from the broader musical audience.

Sinister Grift might just be the turning point he deserves.

Arguably Lennox’s most straightforward and streamlined release to date, Sinister Grift eschews the electro-pop soundscapes of 2015's Panda Bear Meets the Grim Reaper and the lush, sample-based textures of Person Pitch, trading them instead for the raw, immediate sound of an old-school rock ensemble – a genre that, like every other he’s explored, fits him like a glove. Pair this with the fact that the album was produced with Animal Collective bandmate Josh Dibb and there’s a prevailing sense that this is an album Panda Bear was always supposed to and going to make.

Opening with the deviously groovy “Praise”, Lennox’s voice rings out between jangly guitars, urgent drums, and all the woozy electronic quirks fans have come to expect from his solo and collaborative work. Almost as if the Beach Boys’ All Summer Long was strained through an electro-pop cheesecloth, it’s one of the most irresistibly catchy tracks Lennox has penned to date and, not to be too cutesy, but it’s a song you’ll be listening to “again and again and again and again.”

Then there’s “50mg”, a laidback break at the beach, evoking all the "wish you were here" holiday sentimentality you could muster. Otherworldly yet accessible, it’s a heady blend of steel guitar and splashy drums, conjuring images of swaying palm trees, lapping waves and basking at the beach, margarita in hand.

To shake you from your sun-addled stupor, there’s “Just as Well”, a jaunty yet effortlessly charming interlude at the cocktail bar, which dovetails seamlessly into “Ferry Lady” – an acid-infused journey on clear seas buoyed by a combo of claves, grooving basslines, and shimmering cymbals.

This leads into “Venom’s In”, a reminder, if one were needed, that there are few vocalists out there that can quite so ably occupy the otherworldly as Panda Bear, whose voice soars and retreats with career-high precision across the album at large.

It’s work candidly supported by the production from Josh "Deakin" Dibb, whose dreamlike sound is a natural fit for Lennox, though perhaps this isn’t surprising, given that the frequent collaborators have worked with one another since Panda Bear’s debut in 1999. Animal Collective fans will certainly feel at home with the synthetic, eerie sounds drifting in and out throughout the album, perfectly complementing the vibe of a desert island getaway just out of reach.

The album’s cohesion is only slightly broken by a few moments of downtime. For example, “Elegy for Noah Lou” feels like something of an outlier for the album, with its slower, introspective tone slightly disrupting the album’s momentum towards its close. Similarly, “Anywhere but Here” suffers slightly from its place in the track list. Bookending “Praise” was always going to be a tall order, but its inclusion as the second track on the album feels a little stark as it is, but these are minor quibbles on what was an otherwise enchanting trip in the sun.

In an era where we’re steadily ceding control to the autonomy of the artist, Sinister Grift is a much-needed reminder of the kind of work that only humans can create. Textured, emotionally rich, and transportive, it’s a soothing balm for uncertain times. If you’re looking for an opportunity to get away from the noise, you could do a lot worse than Panda Bear’s latest escape into the ethereal. And let’s be honest, who can afford a holiday nowadays anyway?