London’s Pynch have followed up their critically acclaimed debut, ‘Howling At A Concrete Moon,’ with their new album, ‘Beautiful Noise’ (Chilliburn Records). It was recorded at the band's home studio in Brixton, with frontman Spencer Enock handling production duties and Los Campesinos cohort Jimmy Robertson overseeing the mixing.

‘Howling At A Concrete Moon’ was the finest coming-of-age record in a generation. Lost protagonists searching for hope amid a sea of austerity and races to the bottom. Without being an explicitly political record, it lit up the times in the bleak, grey brush strokes that were.

Fast forward two years, with hope still a distant dream for many, and so, ‘Beautiful Noise’ saddles up and searches for more meaning. ‘Forever’ comes out the gates with Grandaddy-esque production and the effortless summer cool of Real Estate as they yearn for “late nights to go see the world To find God in the eyes of a girl”. With the spirit of Billy Bragg’s ‘A New England’ coursing through it, Pynch land you straight back into their out-of-kilter world of Kerouac prose and Jonathan Richman vocals.

Enock’s development on studio duties is enriching on ‘Forever’, but on ‘Revolve Around You’, it gives the band new dimensions. The tinges of drum ‘n’ bass fold in the sound of cathartic chaos. The coming to terms with loss, with unfathomable heartache that catapults your soul into nights of empty sex and excessive booze:

“I lost myself chasing memories / Of things that were never there at all”

They channel their soul through coming-of-age tales, reaching a powerful peak on ‘Microwave Rhapsody’. It's where the divine cool of Is ‘This It’-era Strokes collides with the raw, unfiltered roar of Seafood, a sound both expansive and intimately wounded, as they gaze out across London’s grey skyline, wrestling with life’s big, unanswerable questions.

There’s a hypnotic chaos to their slower songs, a sense of losing control that grips the listener, claws into the spirit, and tears at self-doubt. Memories and dreams blur through their guitars like spectres; the past grins knowingly, its scars worn like armour. The joy, when it comes, is laced with sorrow, aware of its all too fleeting nature.

Elsewhere, they cut through the philosophical torment with the likes of ‘Supermarket’, ‘Hanging On A Bassline’, and ‘Come Outside’. ‘Supermarket’ whilst steeped in youthful estrangement, sonically plays with Graham Coxon and his inclination to b surrounded by “painter and decorators” in the Good Mixer to feel something real. ‘Hanging On A Bassline’ reimagines Beach Boys and The Strokes for London’s youth looking for its freedom. Meanwhile, on ‘Come Outside’, Enock duets with drummer Juliana Hopkins. The lightness of The Cure’s pop-goth guitars sprinkles fairy dust before they race with the glee of Sebadoh and the romance of The Wedding Present circa ‘Seamonsters’.

Pynch documents the isolating nature of your twenties with an innate sensitivity, but crucially, with a burning passion. They wander willingly to the edges of emotional cliffs, staring into the abyss, not with despair, but with curiosity. Music can be playful, even meaningless, but Pynch injects substance into their brand of rock ’n’ roll like a collision of T.S. Eliot and Irvine.

Elsewhere, they cut through the philosophical torment with the likes of ‘Supermarket’, ‘Hanging On A Bassline’, and ‘Come Outside’. ‘Supermarket’ whilst steeped in youthful estrangement, sonically plays with Graham Coxon and his inclination to b surrounded by “painter and decorators” in the Good Mixer to feel something real. ‘Hanging On A Bassline’ reimagines Beach Boys and The Strokes for London’s youth looking for its freedom. Meanwhile, on ‘Come Outside’, Enock duets with drummer Juliana Hopkins. The lightness of The Cure’s pop-goth guitars sprinkles fairy dust before they race with the glee of Sebadoh and the romance of The Wedding Present circa ‘Seamonsters’.

Pynch documents the isolating nature of your twenties with an innate sensitivity, but crucially, with a burning passion. They wander willingly to the edges of emotional cliffs, staring into the abyss, not with despair, but with curiosity. Music can be playful, even meaningless, but Pynch injects substance into their brand of rock ’n’ roll like a collision of T.S. Eliot and Irvine.