If you were looking at the resumés of the members of In Parallel to try to discern what they might sound like, you might be thrown for a loop. Sure, there might be enough shoegaze and post-punk devotion in Hopesfall and Celebrity’s catalogs that it would make sense, but you might expect Broken Codes to have some of their sharper edges as well.

But listening to the gauzy haze of guitars, drum machines, and syrupy smooth vocals, it’s hard to wish it was any grittier. This is the kind of trancelike, dreamy rock that is best consumed by letting it wash over you.

I first heard of In Parallel when my friend Jamie gushed about this album on Instagram. When I went to listen to myself though, I found myself drawn more to their follow up, Fashioner (likely due to it being a little cheaper). After reviewing that one though, I received a message from my friend Bryan. As it turns out, his label Something Beautiful Records put out the vinyl edition of their debut. He offered to send it to me, and I took him up on him in a heartbeat.

And let me tell you: I ripped him off in that exchange, because this album is a gem. This hits on the same kind of nostalgic reverence that Neige has injected into Alcest and Amesoeurs, and while it might not have any of the black metal edge of those projects, it doesn’t need it to exist in the same emotional realm.

From the open industrial drive of “Bridge and Tunnel” to the mile-high guitar wash of instrumental closer “End of Roses,” every moment of this disc offers a bittersweet collision of aural sweetness and emotional darkness. Under the walls of molten shoegaze guitars are shades of Depeche Mode, Joy Divison, Mogwai, and more recent favorites of mine, School of Seven Bells. The synth-maximalism of “Birth of the World” climaxes with a guitar explosion fiery enough to make up for the lack of a drum set before transitioning back into the honey-sweet coda.  “The New Fire” covers its cooler-than-cool bass groove with molten slide guitar and atmospheric noise. “Figurehead” manages to make a Roland 808 handclap sound timeless alongside fuzzy bass and stratospheric guitars.

But perhaps the most stunning moment on the disc is “Spiritual,” the last song with lyrics on the disc. A simple kick and snare rhythm borrowed from NIN’s “Closer” lays the foundation for an electric guitar that wouldn’t feel out of place in a Western and a persistently driven bass line. The verse strips it all away to a glittering acoustic guitar before bringing the other layers in and building up like they’re trying to build a space ladder, manipulated vocal tracks creating an otherworldly harmony section.

Its seven-tracks are only a touch over half an hour, begging for replays. And with the wealth of atmospheres cut into these grooves, it won’t go stale anytime soon.