Solar Bears dig up cultural artifacts from bygone decades and put them to fresh use as components in a musical style that sounds naggingly familiar without ever quite lapsing into pastiche. Of course, this isn’t a hugely original strategy these days. But Solar Bears’ music draws on a particularly thick soup of contrasting half- and mis-remembered pasts: Boards of Canada’s windswept pastorales alongside the otherworldly film scores of John Carpenter and Vangelis; the glossy sensuousness of Air next to Giorgio Moroder’s synth-disco vistas.
You might infer from this that Solar Bears are a sort of jack-of-all-trades of the nostalgia-trafficking underground, sampling the retro-leaning delights on offer without committing to a single fixed identity. That's valid to an extent. The duo’s 2010 debut, She Was Coloured In, was a sprawling record that had a habit of fluctuating erratically between moods and intensities: from wistful yearning to bucolic contentment, kitschy playfulness and back again in the space of a couple of tracks. But compared to the more approximate DIY tendencies of many of their peers, Solar Bears brought a certain smoothness of execution to the table, and a taste for pop directness that could at points tip over into the mawkish, but could also produce results with huge appeal.
It’s fitting that for their second LP, Supermigration, the Irish duo have stepped out of their bedrooms and into a professional studio, where they can pursue their pop muse with renewed fervor. The greatest indication of this comes with a pair of vocal appearances, both highlights of the album. Sarah P of fellow Planet Mu signees Keep Shelly in Athens contributes to "Alpha People", a gorgeously circumspect piece of synth-pop built around tremulous chords. Even more satisfying is the presence of Air collaborator Beth Hirsch on "Our Future is Underground", a sprightly number that overflows with spine-tingling joy in the closing minute.
But even where vocals are absent, there’s no doubting that Solar Bears have refined their technique over the past two years. Supermigration is a glistening, richly arranged album, every song lovingly wrought and festooned with lush synth and guitar work. It’s also a far more coherent record than its predecessor. Opener "Stasis", featuring a simple piano riff that’s wrenched upwards in pitch as if we’re ascending into some gauzy firmament, is reprised at the midpoint as "You And Me (Subterranean Cycles)". Such interludes serve to balance out the album’s weightier moments, and stave off the tendency towards formlessness that blighted She Was Coloured In.
As far as those heavier moments go, the duo’s success is less assured. A string of tracks expand on a disco sound hinted at on She Was Coloured In: "Komplex" coasts luxuriously on chunky synth arpeggios; "A Sky Darkly" is more imposing; "Happiness is a Warm Spacestation" is the most bombastic of the lot, and its relentlessness can feel a little overbearing. Elsewhere guitars supplant synths, as in the angsty "The Girl That Played With Light", proving faintly reminiscent of instrumental post-rock.
At times the duo are guilty of excessive portentousness, but there are just as many moments where their grandiose ambitions are convincingly realised, particularly in sunny closer "Rainbow Collision". Where Supermigration really grips the heartstrings is on slick pieces of library music revivalism that positively shimmer with kitschy optimism. At their best, Solar Bears are utterly charming.
