Before we get to what Young Galaxy are, we should talk about what they aren't. While the Canadian duo records for the Arts & Crafts label, they aren't really comparable to Broken Social Scene, the flagship band that all other A&C bands are weighed against. At first blush, Young Galaxy resembles BSS in some superficial ways: namely, their limpid production and cosmic melodies. But BSS's definitive qualities-- ramshackle energy and genre-bending curveballs-- do not factor into Young Galaxy's orderly dream-pop.
Neither is the duo, comprised of Stephen Ramsay and Catherine McCandless, the Stars side project they've often been touted to be. Ramsay was Stars' touring guitarist (a position he's vacated to focus on Young Galaxy), not a permanent fixture or songwriter in the band. If you come to Young Galaxy expecting a Stars record, you will be disappointed-- they work in muted pastels, not blinding neon; they're deliberate where Stars are immediate. Their most obvious influences are the deep-space arrangements of Slowdive and the watery melodies of Luna, although their penchant for poppy hooks renders them more similar to Long Island's Joy Zipper than either of these.
If all this parsing of influences seems a little tedious, this is apt-- Young Galaxy's polite style is itself a little tedious. Their record is as hard to get worked up about as it is easy to like. This mild tedium is most apparent on the more rock-oriented tracks, which don't play to Young Galaxy's talent for atmosphere-building and make the vocals sound generic. So despite its supernova guitars and some memorable lyrics ("You won't get out of this world alive," Ramsay sings with benevolent certainty), "No Matter How Hard You Try" doesn't make a big impression. The rockers aren't bad, but they make Young Galaxy sound interchangeable with about a million other totally fine but unexceptional indie rock bands.
Ramsay and McCandless fare much better when they hew closer to classic shoegaze, with tidally lapping organs and blissful harmonies. On their best songs, they slowly build towering armatures around uplifting vocal refrains. "Swing Your Heartache" is excellent: Coasting in on a watery hum, it gains amplitude at a leisurely pace, soaring in a way that feels hard-earned by the end. "The Sun's Coming Up and My Plane's Going Down" has the same sense of expansive drift; it's spacious and billowing, orbiting its central melody rather than slamming it home with guitars. Appropriately, orbiting seems to be key for Young Galaxy-- they sound fine when they're direct, but they sound great when they're oblique, letting their melodic themes gradually unfurl via a procession of oceanic keys, saccharine harmonies, and the judicious flash of heat-lightning guitar.
