Hatchie: Liquorice review – dizzying dreampop with welcome flashes of depravity

<p>Eschewing the fairyfloss hooks of her earlier work, the Australian’s third album is both more mature and less immediately palatable</p><ul><li><p><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/newsletters/2019/oct/18/saved-for-later-sign-up-for-guardian-australias-culture-and-lifestyle-email?CMP=cvau_sfl">Get our weekend culture and lifestyle email</a></p></li></ul><p>Almost all of Hatchie’s music could slot frictionlessly into a coming-of-age film. Her songs, mostly, are misty-eyed ruminations on puppy love and its ensuing devastation; they yearn for a redamancy that feels both fated and vexingly out of reach. You can imagine Harriette Pilbeam’s mille-feuille harmonies soundtracking a high school prom dappled with a disco ball’s refractive glimmer, or picture her fleecy guitars over a montage of light teenage debauchery. These are tracks prefabbed for telegraphing big feelings; everyone knows the outsize melodrama of a first, second or 20th crush.</p><p>Liquorice, the title of Pilbeam’s potent third album, winks at her 2018 breakout EP, Sugar and Spice. That formative work was a candy blast of dreampop, emphasis on pop – indebted as much to Carly Rae Jepsen as Cocteau Twins, whose co-founder Robin Guthrie ended up providing a remix of Pilbeam’s single Sure. Liquorice, meanwhile, is more mature and less immediately palatable, eschewing the fairyfloss hooks of Pilbeam’s earlier work.</p> <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/2025/nov/07/hatchie-liquorice-album-review-dizzying-dream-pop">Continue reading...</a>