Any sort of appeal to nostalgia has a fair amount of revisionism. The real life nuance that marked an era is too detailed for contemporary acolytes to keep track of, so they opt instead for broad strokes and general shapes. The shoegaze revival of the last several years is especially guilty of this, whittling down the (actually quite diverse) scene of the late ’80s and early 90s into a few landmark albums and a couple combinations of effects pedals.

But when you’re studying Loveless and Souvlaki for inspiration, you might miss that shoegaze was initially an offshoot of post punk and goth, using a vibrant color palette of pinks and violets to fill in the gloomy, monochromatic sparseness of their antecedents.

You can make solid shoegaze without diving too deep into that history. But when a band looks to the same influences as the shoegaze heroes of old, something special happens.

For instance, Bedroom by the British outfit bdrmm, which captures the dreamy landscapes of shoegaze while exercising a simplicity that feels more Joy Division than My Bloody Valentine.

I don’t want to overstate the sonic difference. This is still very much a shoegaze record, and it has all of the same dreamlike haze that defines the genre. But bdrmm often eschews their peers’ penchant for fuzz pedals, instead constructing their walls of sound out of crystalline reverbs. There are bits of Krautrock and surf in the vibe too, which brings this record closest to DIIV’s early stuff—which is fine for me since there’s precious little I’ve found that feels like that.

When you’re dealing with this sort of vibe though, it’s a fine line between chill and boring. bdrmm avoids this pitfall through expert pacing and captivating melodies. The opening trio of “Momo,” “Push/Pull,” and “A Reason to Celebrate” move through bouncing liveliness, moody post-punk drive, and triumphant indie rock without skipping a beat. Tracks like “Is That What You Wanted to Hear?” prove that shoegaze doesn’t need to employ full onslaughts of noise to be powerful, while the monstrous “If…” shows that it’s fine if it does.

Across the disc, bdrmm  guides the listener through a journey that is sleek and unified without fading together too much. Granted, it’s a nuanced approach, but they find vast grounds in the space between integers.