Canadian blogosphere darlings Purity Ring bursted into early 2010s editorials with an album of glassy ruminations that translated the era’s wordy, kitschy indie pop into the cryptic atmospheres of witch house and ghostly electronica. A lush, promising sound at the time, their haunts quickly began to feel hollow as following albums sanded down their edges for something more akin to the synth-afflicted pop in mass demand. Their self-titled fourth album is the duo’s first project in a decade that doesn’t feel like a retreading — it sounds foreign, even alien at times, lending their mysticism to palettes of blistering drum ‘n’ bass and heart-pounding trance. For a group that once felt relegated to the year of their breakout, it’s one of the year’s most exciting “I told you so” moments.

Inspired by iconography from classic Japanese RPGs (namely the Final Fantasy series), their self-titled steers away from the anthemic hauntology of the duo’s past and instead opts for the pursuit of fleeting digital ephemera. The once clear-cut, airy vocals of frontwoman Megan James are now warped and pitch-shifted to mimic that of a cooing vocaloid character, breathily pressing up against wistful, eyes-to-the-sky synth work courtesy of instrumentalist Corin Roddick. “many lives” and “between you and shadows” position neck-breaking drum ‘n’ bass against a fantastical shimmer, while “the long night” pulsates over trance synths that breach past a scintillating surface. Their knack for mythology continues to shine through, as James speaks as the coy narrator of a sprawling storybook — teeming with digitally wondrous lore.

While their previous endeavors have often found the duo searching for larger-than-life hooks and soaring melodies, the new album largely leans into serene, synthetic prettiness. They unplug on the teary-eyed “imanocean”, a jangly dream pop breather that sees the group at their most threadbare. For an act that once found catharsis in pure maximalism, these moments feel like the most intimately magnetic material that the band has produced since their ascent. When they do vie for more straightforward floor-fillers, they feel earned nonetheless — the bassy shuffle of “place of my own” is an easy highlight, using James’ post-human presence to great effect in a flurry of vocal chops that form a semblance of a conventional chorus.

If there’s an affliction that Purity Ring still carries with them, it’s their tendency to stick to a script. The songs on their debut album Shrines largely follow the same heartful swell, a winning formula that tires itself out a bit after eleven straight tracks of ghoulish, hazy synths over militaristic snare rolls. It’s the reason their 2015 sophomore record Another Eternity feels like a chore, even more so as it somehow sounds more dated than its predecessor. The self-titled record is the group’s most dynamic work to date, but still finds itself stuck in familiar traps. There are many more unique sounds between its tracks, but they’re often utilized to similar effect from song to song — ricocheting breakbeats are used as a sky-high emotional climax a few times too many for one to not feel a bit sick of them by the final track.

There might not be a track on the new record as good as “Fineshrine”, the breakout single from their 2012 debut, but it’s quite easily their most compelling work as a group since said debut. Purity Ring became unexciting because they repeatedly tried to perfect a sound that they had already staked an effective claim to fame in, endlessly pursuing a bliss that they already captured pretty damn well on that first album. Purity Ring feels like the sound of a project regaining its confidence to get passionate, geeking out a good amount in the process. It might fall back on old tricks a little too often, but it sounds like an exciting new venture for a duo whose well seemingly dried up a while ago — sometimes it feels good to be proved wrong.

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