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Photo: Jaxon Whittington

California trio Julie, comprised of vocalist and guitarist Keyan Pourzand, drummer Dillion Lee, and vocalist and bassist Alexandria Elizabeth, bestows upon any and all audiophiles a stunning entry into the shoegaze and experimental rock scene, blending lush soundscapes with raw, emotional vulnerability.

my anti-aircraft friend opens on familiar territory with the previously released "catalogue." It begins with fuzzed-out guitar riffs, thrumming bass lines, and driving percussion patterns. Singer and guitarist Alex Brady croons over the moody instrumentation, "I just want to stay here / Catalogue, picture of a bone / With the pine needles in my hair," further lamenting that they only want to reflect on the fears they thought they'd grow out of and the dreams they once had. In the chorus, over an intensifying, angsty guitar-led ensemble, they acknowledge the indifference they feel as sonic cacophony looms overhead.

"clairbourne practice" zooms ahead breathlessly, kicking up clouds of distortion. Alex Brady and Keyan Pourzabnd's vocals come together in eerie harmony, oscillating between sweet, floaty, dark, and enigmatic tones but never quite matching. They croon together in the first verse, "What a way to make your day / Oh, I don't know / You just said so / At least just say you do / It'll make me feel like / The things I thought you always knew." This slight yet beautiful mismatch continues throughout the rest of the track, drawing the listener in, waiting for them to be on the same page but never quite reaching equilibrium.

In an album full of standouts, including the crushing "tenrebrist," the drowsy "knob," and the infinitely catchy "feminine adornments," the trio usher listeners into the gem that is "piano instrumental." It's a Sonic Youth-esque, misleadingly titled effort with an insane momentum, journeying through unpredictable hills and valleys. It sports an exciting dynamism, where the guitars slowly build up, and the structures suddenly disassemble into clever anti-climaxes. 

The album's final track, "stuck in a car with angels," is an enrapturing, colossal finale that perfectly encapsulates all of julie's strengths. The track starts slowly and builds as much tension as possible, with delicate, almost whispered vocals lulling you into a false calm before slowly building into a massive, feedback-drenched crescendo. The anticipation is anxiety-inducing, like waiting for a storm to strike. The juxtaposition between fragility and chaos is flawless, creating a moving emotional journey that leaves a lasting impression, beautifully capturing the alienation and introspection of growing up in a post-pandemic world. Elizabeth's haunting incantations only heighten the madness, tinged with wistfulness. "I want to follow you home," she sings.

julie's dual vocals between Alexandria Elizabeth and Keyan Pourzand add my anti-aircraft friend's ambiguity and emotion. The interplay between their voices—sometimes harmonizing, existing in their own sonic spaces—gives each song a sense of tension that mirrors the emotional complexity of the lyrics. It still has those scuzzy shoegaze guitars that the band has made their trademark, but it also feels like a moment of respite to conclude this passionately executed record.

Listen to my anti-aircraft friend below: