The Secluded – Dreamscape

Some records resonate like letters from a faraway past, a voice you thought you’d forgotten returning with new wisdom, older and quieter but more necessary than ever. Dreamscape, the long-awaited, highly anticipated new album from The Secluded, doesn’t come knocking on the door so much as it materializes in the room, already there, like smoke after a candle’s gone out. It’s an album about drifting, remembering, and surviving. This is a band that understands interruption, creatively, socially, and historically. Formed in 2012 in Frankfurt am Main and embraced early by Berlin’s Motor Music, The Secluded once streamed into the indie rock current with the hunger and speed of newcomers chasing possibility. Then, like so many, they disappeared, not into oblivion but into a kind of incubation. Dreamscape, released June 13 on Bellaphon, resonates with an ambiance of the band that returns to explore meaning, and they are not doing it with the over-compensation of a comeback act, but with an eerie, slow-burning grace that’s hard to shake. There’s a weather system inside these tracks, a slow pressure shift you feel in your bones, not in your speakers or headphones.

To call this dream pop, post-indie, or ambient rock would be like describing a thunderstorm by reading the weekly forecast. Genres buckle under this thing, mainly because The Secluded’s sound has expanded into a living organism Synths rise and fall like tidal waves, guitars shimmer and scorch in equal measure, and vocals slip in not as declarations but as apparitions. Their collaboration with producer Kurt Ebelhäuser is worth lounging on. There’s an alchemical feel here, crisp without feeling cold, heavy without being sluggish. The sonic layers are thoroughly planned yet never mannered. Every texture feels merited, like a scar or a secret. Rather than delivering songs as self-contained narratives, The Secluded seem to think in landscapes. Their album feels like one continuous terrain, a windswept expanse filled with echoes and unspoken memories. There are peaks of near-uplift, moments that sparkle like golden-hour light through a dusty window. And then there are the valleys, the foggy ravines where the vocals retreat into near-silence, where all that’s left is pulse and presence. Lyrically, the band resists the temptation to speak plainly. Words drift in and out of focus, like half-remembered dreams or phrases from a distant conversation. But that obscurity feels intentional, like a refusal to reduce feeling to explanation. Instead of spelling things out, The Secluded trusts you to feel your way through. That vulnerability, that lack of emotional spoon-feeding, is its own kind of intimacy. A special mention must be made of their cover of “Sweet Dreams,” a gothic, glitchy, almost haunted reimagining of the Eurythmics’ 1983 classic. It shows a band unafraid to inhabit old songs like strange houses, rearranging the furniture until the familiar becomes uncanny again. That same instinct is at play throughout Dreamscape, the defamiliarization of the known, the defibrillation of feeling. It’s an album for long drives with no destination. For the slow walk home after a conversation, you didn’t want to end. It doesn’t grab you by the collar. It waits until you’re ready, and then it opens a door you didn’t know you’d closed.

After all, The Secluded has created an album that seeks the listener’s honest reaction and emotion rather than intending to fit the social media algorithms. It’s a collection of songs intended to evoke all those sentiments and recollections of moods, situations, and circumstances we’ve all been through before. And The Secluded has ultimately managed to craft an album that sonically resonates on so many levels, and most importantly, on the level that will appeal to the broader auditorium. Where other bands return with bravado, The Secluded return with atmosphere. They created an expansive sonic voyage worth repeating over again. Dreamscape is less about escape and more about immersion into memory, melancholy, and moments where noise becomes comfort, and silence becomes sacred. As the band, The Secluded grew up as songwriters and musicians by delivering an emotionally intelligent, genre-fluid album that speaks softly, and somehow says everything.