There is a particular shade of electric blue that appears on the inside of your eyelids when you rub your eyes too hard, a colour that feels both artificial and deeply biological, and that is precisely where Vacant Shores and their new EP, “Vacant Shores”, seem to reside. Jon Elliott, AJ ‘Sid’ Sidford, and Suzy Alderton have managed to capture something peculiarly British here; a specific Bristolian mood that sits somewhere between the damp grandeur of the harbor and the hum of a server room at 3 AM.

The release opens with “Flat Circle,” a track that immediately throws a bag of marbles onto the floor of your mind. It deals in Indietronica anxiety, critiquing the fragile ego, but the delivery is what hooks you. That falsetto is so high and syncopated it functions almost like percussion, clicking and locking into place. It’s jittery. It reminds me of the sensation of having consumed one too many espressos while trying to assemble a piece of Swedish furniture, manic, precise, and fraught with the realization that the structure you’re building is going to collapse.

Then the gravity shifts. “Wasted Breath” offers a descent into something darker and cooler. It explores entropy, which is a heavy concept for a pop song, but they make decay sound sleek. The vocal contrast is striking, an ethereal female voice looping like a rhythmic ghost against a smoother male delivery that slides between nonchalance and emotion. It evokes the feeling of a late-night drive through an empty city where the streetlights are timing out one by one. It’s hypnotic, suggesting that watching things fall apart can be strangely beautiful if the lighting is right.

I’ve always felt that heartbreak sounds wet, like boots squelching on sodden earth, and “(There Are) Holes In The Ocean” confirms this hypothesis. It blends Art Rock with Math Rock geometries, yet the sharp edges are softened by an aquatic reverb that drenches everything. The yearning tenor vocals drift through the mix, exploring the melancholic distance between two people who just missed the deadline for happiness. It feels spacious, creating a sense of being submerged in a vast, indifferent body of water, suspended in the moment of realization that the person you’re drifting away from is already a speck on the horizon.

This leads naturally into “Emotionless,” which captures the numbness of the aftermath. It’s quieter, a Dream Pop exhalation. The call-and-response vocals are intimate and hushed, delivered with the reluctance of a confession you didn’t want to make. It evokes the specific acoustic deadness of a house right after someone has moved all their boxes out, a cold, reverb-heavy space where the silence is louder than the noise.

But Vacant Shores doesn’t let you wallow in the quiet. “Fire Alarm” tears the roof off. The shift to a massive, euphoric choir backing a singular lead is a jarring, wonderful transition. It feels like slow-motion flight. It explores the terrifying liberation of cutting ties, the sort of dizziness you get when looking up at a skyscraper. It sounds like freedom, but the dangerous kind, the kind that comes without a safety net.

The collection snaps shut with “Ending,” a frenetic piece of Synth-pop revivalism. It’s about looking away from the disaster, the willful ignorance of the modern condition. The vocals here are strained and distorted, processed into a gritty, desperate texture that sounds like a distress signal no one is answering. It’s frantic and anxious, closing the loop on a journey that started with nervousness and ended with a crash.

Listening to this EP is like watching a film reel melt in the projector; it’s messy, vivid, and uncomfortably honest. Why do we enjoy music that sounds like our own internal panic attacks set to a beat?

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