The last two times I’ve reviewed a Blushing record, I talked a lot about the tightrope that shoegaze acts have to walk between capturing the archetypal early 90s sounds of the genre and finding their own voice. By their third full length, Blushing walks this balance so deftly that mentioning it would be a moot point.
Sugarcoat offers up the same sweet, dreamy songcraft that the group has made their career on, but there’s a palpable confidence here. They’re even more fluent, and the vocabulary sounds more comfortable in their mouths.
Last year, I caught the crest of the hype-wave for Blushing as it was cresting. I listened to it on Spotify, fell in love, and upon finding that the vinyl was way out of my budget, I put them away, trying to forget about them. That is until this week, when my friend Rob included it in an order of cassette tapes from his label,