JENNY MITCHELL, poetry co-editor for the Morning Star, introduces her priorities, and her first selection
Ghost-text tales and half-crush confessions
MARK JONES salutes the progeny of the Cocteau Twins for a new music built for today’s dreamers
HENRY BELL is sceptical of the notion that ‘progress’ is an ideology that the ruling class uses exclusively to camouflage appropriation
In search of political understanding, MATTHEW HAWKINS welcomes a critique of anti-semitism as codified by the Israeli state
BEN CHACKO welcomes a masterful analysis that puts class struggle back at the heart of our understanding of China’s revolution
JOHN GREEN is intrigued by the ethereal, ghostly quality of images of a London unobscured by the bustle of humanity
JENNY FARRELL relishes an outstanding Palestinian novel that immerses readers in the sensory reality of Gaza, then and now
AI-induced murder, last rites for the mob-dog, a gullible common herd, and an exemplary Christmas chiller
Yndling
Time Time Time (I’m in the Palm of Your Hand)
(Spirit Goth Records)
★★★★★
Hey, fellow eclectic explorer — Yndling’s sophomore album is pure late-night magic. Silje (the heart of Yndling) weaves 42 minutes of hazy shoegaze-synthpop that feels like drifting through warm fog. Her semi-whispered vocals glide over blooming electric guitar synth effects patches and shimmering textures, pulling you into an immersive, ethereal world.
Sure, the Cocteau Twins’ shadow looms — those gossamer vocals and reverb cathedrals echo Elizabeth Fraser’s ghost — but Yndling isn’t chasing Heaven or Las Vegas. This is Cocteau for the scroll generation: TikTok snippets, bedroom-pop intimacy, and a Nordic chill that swaps gothic romance for quiet, modern ache.
Tracks explore introspection, self-isolation, and that tricky gap between inner truth and outer reality. It’s mostly lush dream-pop echoing Mazzy Star or Beach House, but with fresh twists. As Fast As I Can sneaks in fuzzy, punky energy — a quick spark before melting back into the haze. The production is a treat: bass hums low, hi-hats circle like lazy stars. Headphones make it intimate; speakers fill the room just right. Replayable without wearing thin, it’s comfort for off-days.
And the TikTok spark? That’s It’s Almost Like You’re Here, the January 2025 lead single that became my relentless earworm. Its celestial synth-wash and soft croon about slipping words and almost-love hit TikTok hard through understated 15-second clips: foggy Norwegian vistas, slow city lights, on-screen lyrics like “When it’s almost, but not quite.”
Fans dueted with ghosted-text tales and half-crush confessions; lip-sync challenges under bedhead glow racked up millions of views. One rain-on-window overlay alone blew past a million. It wasn’t pushy promo — just organic, letting the bittersweet vibe spread. For me, it lodged during a commute and bridged straight to the album’s deeper sighs.
Smart, quiet conquest of the scroll.
