Album Review: Dear Time's Waste - Some Kind of Eden

New Zealand's Dear Time's Waste, the performance name of gothic dream popper Claire Duncan, first appeared in 2009 with the Room For Rent EP and was followed up with the 2010 LP Spells. These records, Spells especially, shimmered with the throwback beauty of lush '80s post-punk. The new full-length, Some Kind of Eden, channels the same avenues for inspiration, but ends up at a fairly different conclusion.

The sounds are now even more minimal, with very few moments of full band sound appearing on this 45-minute album. This is of little wonder, considering that Duncan imposed a situation of self-isolation to create the record. The opening sampled and clipped drum sounds, sustained keyboard tones and lush, banshee-wailing vocals of Hands set the tone for the entire record perfectly. Traditional instrument sounds are sparse here, with Dear Time's Waste opting for an even more ethereal and otherworldly sound than ever before. Tonally, the record's electronic atmosphere becomes stronger and more claustrophobic as it goes on. Six Feet Down is a downright gothic rock classic that would have been right at home on a Small Wonder Records compilation. Following on, Head To Toe's inward-looking gaze would be impenetrable were it not for the gorgeous and soaring vocals delivering it to a higher plane. These two late tracks serve to break up the tonal coherency of the album, which does tend to fall into monotony.

The Cocteau Twins and Siouxsie Sioux comparisons are inevitable and warranted, though those looking for a gothic, romantic, and legitimately creepy dose of modern dream pop could do much worse. The album is surely no Eden, but it's certainly from another place.