Nabihah Iqbal - Dreamer (LP)

Nabihah Iqbal’s second album feels like a quietly gutsy reset. After the luminous, electronics-led Weighing of the Heart in 2017, she returns with Dreamer on Ninja Tune in 2023, and the shift is obvious from the first bars. Guitars ring out, basslines lope with a post-punk pulse, and her voice sits closer to the front, steady and unhurried. It’s the sound of an artist who’s had to strip back to essentials, then decide what really matters. She spoke in interviews about a studio break-in that wiped early drafts, and about grief that shadowed the writing. You can hear that weight, but what’s striking is how light on its feet the record still feels.

This World Couldn’t See Us might be the album’s clearest mission statement. A bright, chiming progression rides a crisp drum machine, and Iqbal’s vocal threads through like a mantra, cool but cutting. It nods to the kind of British indie that prized clarity over noise, yet it lands with a modern sheen that suits her background as a DJ and NTS Radio host. Sunflower pushes further into dream pop, all glassy guitar and gentle synth bloom, the kind of track that sneaks up on you during a late tram ride and sticks all week. Neither song tries to knock you over. They just set the groove and let mood and detail do the work.

What I love is how tactile it all is. You can almost feel fingers on strings, the bite of a chorus pedal, the roomy slap of a kick. The production is uncluttered, almost ascetic at times, which puts pressure on the arrangements to carry feeling. They do. A recurring move is the way she layers vocals without smothering them, creating a slight haze that still lets consonants land. It’s a handy metaphor for the record as a whole. Dreamer lives in the space between clarity and blur, where memories keep their shape even as they soften at the edges.

Iqbal has always had an archivist’s ear, pulling threads from post-punk, shoegaze and minimal synth, and tying them back to club instincts that value repetition and flow. Dreamer leans into that continuum. Tracks often lock into a tempo and refuse to budge, which gives her lyrics a mantra-like sway. The melodies are simple, sometimes almost austere, but they’re never thin. A guitar will peal just so, a keyboard will glow in a corner of the mix, and suddenly a small phrase feels like a spell. It’s the difference between a record that aims for fireworks and one that understands the pull of constancy.

There’s also a grounded sense of place. You can imagine these songs closing out a dim room around midnight, the kind of set where nobody shouts over the music because the music is doing the talking. Yet they read just as well on a turntable at home. The Dreamer vinyl has that late-night intimacy baked in, the kind that makes you lean closer. If you’re digging through a Melbourne record store or browsing vinyl records Australia wide, this is the sort of sleeve you pick up out of curiosity, then keep spinning because the atmosphere is right and the songs keep unfolding.

Context helps, too. After the lost hard drives and the life upheavals, you might expect a harsher record, something jagged. Instead, Dreamer sounds like resolve. It’s not an album of grand statements. It’s an album of choices, taken one at a time, that add up to a voice you trust. That trust is why these songs land on repeat. They don’t posture. They hum along beside you, then tilt the light a bit when you need it.

Critics heard it as a step forward, and so did fans who’d been with her since the Throwing Shade era. The responses from places like Pitchfork and The Guardian noted how the guitar-centred writing sharpened her identity while expanding her palette, which is exactly how it feels in the headphones. If you collect Nabihah Iqbal albums on vinyl, this sits neatly next to her debut while pointing down a new lane. And if you’re chasing a starting point, Dreamer is welcoming, unhurried and full of small rewards.

Put simply, it’s a record for listeners who prize texture and patience. There are hooks here, but they don’t elbow you in the ribs. They stand in the doorway and beckon. For those looking to buy Nabihah Iqbal records online, you’ll find this an easy addition, and a strong argument for keeping the format alive. Nabihah Iqbal vinyl tends to hold its mood well, and this one is no exception. Dreamer vinyl feels like a companion, and it’s one I’ll be keeping within reach for a long while.