She tells us about what’s on her mind, and then lets it sit, soundtracked by her deft production and dreamy songwriting, providing just the right balance of melancholy and moreish contentment – usually at the same time.
There’s a distinct unsettledness to a lot of In The End It Always Does – a lot of musical moments that feel like they should be a sonic comfort blanket, but for untold reasons feel a little offbeat. Opening track “Spot Dog” culminates in twinkling, nursery-rhyme cosiness, but leaves you feeling disoriented rather than drowsy; “Indexical Reminder of a Morning Well Spent” is nostalgia put on paper, but leaves you longing to feel the exact emotion that Bain has bottled on the track in woozy guitars and crisp, mournful vocals. For all its emotional dexterity, this would be a record it’s easy to sink into and let take you where it was, but Bain instead employs her entire musical arsenal to keep you alert and engaged with every note.
The aforementioned “Spot Dog” and “Indexical Reminder” are just two examples of how she walks the line between a sound that's soporific and one that's sharp, sleekly produced and striking – and this is the overarching trend of the album. “Friends,” “Touching Yourself,” and “Boyhood” are just the other side of the fence. On the surface, they’re bubbly, flickering electropop gems – tongue-in-cheek overtness colours their lyrics, gleaming synths and upbeat melodies characterise their sound, but Bain laces them with thoughtfulness, reflection, and depth in her delivery. These layers within Bain's music are nothing new, but where they were clever ideas on 2019's Good At Falling, they're now fully realised and at their best.
It should be mentioned as well that the 1975’s George Daniel is, indeed, at his very best as he lends In The End It Always Does his production skills. All the delicately mixed ambience, all the right crisp moments and the right crackling static, all the moments of obscurity melting into moments of clarity – Bain’s search for contentment in the wake of a breakup couldn’t be evoked better.
Where previously The Japanese House has sometimes found itself overwhelmed by production that is a little too misty, In The End It Always Does sounds like Bain stepping into the sun. She does this most literally on “Sunshine Baby,” whose lyrics give the record its title. It’s a highlight, with an uncredited feature from Matty Healy, which gleams and sprawls through its laidback-anthem instrumentals and bright, vividly layered production. It’s a perfect microcosm of the cautious void between optimism and pessimism where In The End It Always Does lives – a gorgeous purgatory that feels more than OK to stay in for a minute.
