Sprawling London octet caroline may extol the virtues of lower-case minimalism in moniker only, because on second album caroline 2, any nod to modesty or restraint is firmly eschewed at the front door. Indeed, in the words of Jasper Llewellyn – the band’s central column and main conduit of ideas – “The first record was a compilation, but this one is a declaration.” Mission statement, call to arms, name it what you will; project messaging doesn’t come any clearer than that.

Even taking all that into account — and whatever your expectations heading in — prepare to have them splintered. ‘Total Euphoria‘ announces the album with repeated stabs of guitars, jangling under bombastic, fractious drumming, deliberately disjointed in clashing rhythm. Llewellyn and violinist Magdalene McLean’s voices startlingly obliterated by static and grinding electronics. Like cutting a Swervedriver track into pieces, reassembling in the dark and playing back at half speed.

Delinquent noise cuts through the album like thermal shock, biting into even the most beguiling compositions. Sawing violins, screaming dream-pop guitar and hyper-processed vocals mark a genuine breaking of new ground on ‘Song 2’. ‘U R UR ONLY ACHING‘ is sweet and skittish — akin to bashing the heads of two plaintive acoustic pieces together until, amidst a squall of strings and autotune, things gradually join together in a kind of warped, tangled grace. Somehow, it makes sense.

The band’s commitment to experimentation occasionally threatens to undo them, yet the way they so often pull back from the brink suggests they absolutely know what they’re up to. Band namesake Caroline Polachek appears on lead single ‘Tell Me I Never Knew That’, turning over a straightforward ballad until the artifice of a repeated lyric becomes quietly provocative.

Movement and exploration of the studio space is a deliberate ploy to inject both distance and colour. ‘Two Riders Down,’ initially reminiscent of their sublime 2020 single ‘Dark Blue,’ signposts back to the album’s beginning; six thrilling minutes that mushrooms from shaggy bluegrass to furious crescendo, destructively processed and swollen with heavy distortion.

The production may be forensically considered but always serves the music as a whole, almost like a new instrument. ‘When I Get Home’ uses a deep thump of bass drum so muffled it sounds like it’s coming from rowdy upstairs neighbours — as if you were trying to sing a heartfelt tune to your girlfriend outside the Slam Tent. It’s just on the right side of fraying your nerves, which seems entirely the point.

Even without drama or mixing-desk gymnastics, the group’s essence burns bright. ‘Beautiful Ending’ feels Olympic in ambition, yet is disarmingly beautiful, McLean’s gentle voice soothing the mood while gripped by fully distorted bass tremors. A giant leap forward and fitting conclusion to an album that is incongruous, elegiac, and fully realised as a dizzying monolith of noise and aspiration.