Let me tell you a love story. The scene begins innocuously enough: a cold and damp February morning two years ago, the sun hours away from rising. A still-drunk Scottish man throwing up the night’s revelries on the sidewalk. Another drunk man being escorted off the bus that had just arrived at the station from its overnight journey. A 10-hour trip ahead on a smelly and cramped Megabus from Edinburgh to London. The same album on repeat throughout said trip through the British Isle.
And that’s when I fell wildly in love with The 1975.
Three years after their self-titled debut album, these British lads have released their second album, I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it. And. I. Love. It. I won’t attempt to convince you to like the album title, but I will attempt to make you love the album itself. Or if not love, at least give it a listen.
I listened to this album for the first time on my way to work the morning of its release, which turned out to be a poor decision as it left me emotionally incapacitated for the remainder of the day. Some of my friends have been disappointed with the lack of consistency in the sound of this album, and I am sympathetic to their critiques, especially after the melodic cohesiveness that was the band’s first album. However, lyrically this album is much-improved from the first, and that’s a win for me. It’s also bleeding all sorts of ~*feelings*~ and I’m all about a good dose of vulnerability when it comes to music.