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Aglow with '80s nostalgia and suspended electronics, More Songs About the Sun, the latest album from Martin Jenkins' hallowed Pye Corner Audio project, is a golden hour (or rather, 45 minutes) of saturated bliss. Thematically, it still feels connected to 2025's Lake Deep Memory, where scale and space within the music evoked that of the natural world; the parallels are clear on this new release, with tracks like "Inverted Dreams" carving out their own sun-drenched expanses. But it is framed more so as a successor to Let's Emerge!, whose final track, "Warmth of The Sun," opened the door to the conceptual world of this release.

The music finds focus in retro-futurist aesthetics, with warping synths, krautrock-esque drums, and intricate textural work—Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark meets Clark. Comparisons with vintage Boards of Canada material are clear; the timing of this release couldn't be better in that respect. More Songs About the Sun also sees the return of Andy Bell (Oasis, Ride), who supplies guitars on the first three tracks. His shoegaze-adjacent melodies form a hazy, ultra-distorted centre in the quasi-aquatic zen of "Analogue Dreams," and then ooze groove and summer solstice psychedelia on the indie dance ballad "Cycle," the feel of which elicits connections with work from Bell's great namesake, Andrew Weatherall.

But for all the light in this body of work, shade creeps in around the edges. This much is evident on "The Breath of Now," which features haunting, oblique verses from Scottish crime writer Ian Rankin ("Everything looks like a tunnel … which way did you come in?"), and via the title of the minute-long closer, "Blooms Fade." On a first listen, for an album that carries over such brightness, this undercurrent feels out of place. But then, brightness has to be defined in relation to its counterpart; there is no light without shadow. In Jenkins' own words, "if there's a theme that runs throughout then it's optimism, even in these darkened days. The sun will continue to rise … even if there's no one around to see it." © Finn Kverndal/Qobuz

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Aglow with '80s nostalgia and suspended electronics, More Songs About the Sun, the latest album from Martin Jenkins' hallowed Pye Corner Audio project, is a golden hour (or rather, 45 minutes) of saturated bliss. Thematically, it still feels connected to 2025's Lake Deep Memory, where scale and space within the music evoked that of the natural world; the parallels are clear on this new release, with tracks like "Inverted Dreams" carving out their own sun-drenched expanses. But it is framed more so as a successor to Let's Emerge!, whose final track, "Warmth of The Sun," opened the door to the conceptual world of this release.

The music finds focus in retro-futurist aesthetics, with warping synths, krautrock-esque drums, and intricate textural work—Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark meets Clark. Comparisons with vintage Boards of Canada material are clear; the timing of this release couldn't be better in that respect. More Songs About the Sun also sees the return of Andy Bell (Oasis, Ride), who supplies guitars on the first three tracks. His shoegaze-adjacent melodies form a hazy, ultra-distorted centre in the quasi-aquatic zen of "Analogue Dreams," and then ooze groove and summer solstice psychedelia on the indie dance ballad "Cycle," the feel of which elicits connections with work from Bell's great namesake, Andrew Weatherall.

But for all the light in this body of work, shade creeps in around the edges. This much is evident on "The Breath of Now," which features haunting, oblique verses from Scottish crime writer Ian Rankin ("Everything looks like a tunnel … which way did you come in?"), and via the title of the minute-long closer, "Blooms Fade." On a first listen, for an album that carries over such brightness, this undercurrent feels out of place. But then, brightness has to be defined in relation to its counterpart; there is no light without shadow. In Jenkins' own words, "if there's a theme that runs throughout then it's optimism, even in these darkened days. The sun will continue to rise … even if there's no one around to see it." © Finn Kverndal/Qobuz