Hariette Pilbeam has swung in yearning dream-pop for the last couple of albums, most of which continue to captivate up to this day, like a heartbeat that is still propulsive and thriving. ‘Liquorice’ becomes a testing point in Hatchie’s pop formula, brewing sweetness that tastes tamer this time around.

There is never a shortage of acts walking through the dream pop atmospherics for the past couple of years, but few manage to have their presence echo and shine. Hariette Pilbeam, also known as Hatchie, has made her presence known for the past couple of years. 2019’s ‘Keepsake’ rushes through that 90s sheen, complete with blistering hooks and push-and-pull romantic keepsakes that drive Hatchie’s heartbeat float. But 2022’s Giving The World Away is a follow-up that opens her sonic worldview. The pulpy tones of baggy become prominent, increasing the pulsating impact of Hatchie’s melodic charm and dramatic weight that she carries from front to back. The sweetness is a lot darker, but carries a punch.

Now, 3 years later, Liquorice has set its aim a bit lower. Lying down on the ground so Hatchie can view the parting skies and feel the breeze. “I apologize for being so straight / I guess I just wonder why bother with anything that ends up exactly the same”, sings Hatchie across the clear Cocteau Twins-esque dreamy rollick. The tune still has its charm, strings and shuffling guitars accompany Hatchie’s affectionate voice, but the motion tends to drift rather than to swing.

This direction is intentional, in keeping things musically composed – with Joe Agius alongside Jay Som working on the production this time around – and reminiscent of Hatchie reflecting on her 20-something youthful romanticism, it all compiles on this wistful yearning. One that’s willing to bat an eye playfully, and then immediately reach to Hatchie’s sincere desires. It’s a balancing point that Hatchie, for the most part, approaches with glee. ‘Sage’ is brisk and shimmery in its melodies. Chiming keys offer a cheeky smirk, and the soft glide on the hook amplifies that lilting tease of “You’re falling in love with me”. And ‘Lose It Again’ is as frustrated as it is lovestruck. Rippling grooves allow Hatchie’s yearning to keep on chasing, with the guitar riffs following her with an electrifying edge.

The best moments on Hatchie’s catalog tend to show fully when the tunes are as immersed in atmospheric and passionate aplomb, but there is now less of it here. The punchy melodic whirl of ‘Carousel’ and the saturated, quick-paced smear of ‘Stuck’ still show that Hatchie still got it in her bag, yet so much of the album lets that sharpness slide away, and the bulk of those dreamy textures is tempered down to a fault. Crafting instead are songs like ‘Liquorice’ and ‘Part That Bleeds’ whose melodies tend to swoon rather than thump, leaving Hatchie’s sweet tendencies dissolving quicker than usual.

Unfortunately, the production loses ground more than once, letting bitter tones skew away the gentle comfort that comes from Hatchie’s overall sound. ‘Wonder’ becomes texturally overpowering, a blemish that cages away her vocal presence. Programmed drums and gauzy synth pads on ‘Anemoia’ are dull in their entirety, a languid expression to start the record. And ‘Anchor’ is perhaps the messiest one of all. Drooping guitar pedals and frail melodies only drown out Hatchie’s melancholic thoughts. Instead of carrying them out to the surface, the overall palette drowns them away.

The mellower, yet still charming approach for ‘Liquorice’ ends up landing some sweetness, but mostly leaving more sourness to the taste buds. Hatchie’s presence as a vocalist and writer is tested when the encompassing textures and tunes aim to have a lesser impact, a double-edged sword that constantly leaves her dreamy, lovestruck pining end up milder this time around. The familiar sweetness might be there, but the formula starts drying up this time around.

Order Liqorice by Hatchie HERE