No Mono - Islands Part 2 (LP)

No Mono’s Islands Part 2 lands like the second breath after a long dive, the moment when the light shifts and you realise there’s still more to uncover. The Melbourne project is Tom Snowdon and Tom Iansek, two artists who already knew how to find each other’s edges long before this, from #1 Dads cuts to that beloved 2014 Like A Version of FKA twigs’ Two Weeks. Islands Part 2 arrived in 2018 on Pieater, the label Iansek co-runs, and it’s the companion piece to Part 1 from earlier that year. You can hear the conversation between the two records, but Part 2 carries a different temperature, a little more heat in the blood, a little more forward motion.

Snowdon’s baritone sits right at the centre. It has that sand-swept clarity that seems to come from years of breathing in big skies, which makes sense given his Central Australian roots. He doesn’t rush. Notes are held and shaded until the meaning bends toward you. Around him, Iansek builds a world of small, deliberate choices. Piano keys are left to ring, synths glow like streetlights in fog, and percussion snaps in short, human bursts rather than machine gun flurries. It’s the space between sounds that does the work, a lesson Iansek has refined across Big Scary and #1 Dads but applies here with almost surgical restraint.

Fever Highs is the entry point for a lot of listeners, and it’s a smart one. The track pulses without ever breaking into a sprint, the hook more of a slow turn than a chorus. You feel the tug in your chest before you even catch what Snowdon’s saying. That control, that refusal to overplay, runs through the record. There are moments where the arrangement strips back to almost nothing and you find yourself leaning in, waiting for a tiny synth wobble or a breath on the mic to tip the mood. When the low end does arrive, it feels earned.

Production-wise, the record bears the fingerprints of a team that trusts subtlety. Much of No Mono’s work has flowed through Pieater’s BellBird Studio in Melbourne, and you can hear that familiar clarity here. Vocals sit up front and clean, reverbs are short and purposeful, and there’s a tactile sense to the acoustic elements. You catch a fingertip against a string, a pedal thud under the piano, those little cues that make a studio recording feel lived in rather than polished to glass.

If Part 1 felt like a long night walk, Part 2 tilts toward the hour before dawn. The themes are still interior, still circling memory and distance and the double edge of solitude. But there’s a glint of lift in the choruses, a readiness to let light through the curtain. It’s not a pop turn, just a loosening of the grip. The album rewards front-to-back listening. It’s compact, but the sequencing is thoughtful, and the emotional arc makes more sense as a whole than as isolated tracks tossed on a playlist.

For anyone eyeing Islands Part 2 vinyl, the format suits it. Quiet pressing, wide stereo field, and all that negative space blooms on a decent setup. You can hear the mix breathe, the low frequencies sit solid without smearing, and Snowdon’s voice takes on even more weight. If you like shelving records for different moods, this one slots alongside those late-night staples you reach for when the house is still. No Mono vinyl tends to sell steadily, so if you’re planning to buy No Mono records online, don’t sleep on it too long. Plenty of Melbourne record store counters will give you a nod if you ask for No Mono albums on vinyl, and it’s a neat recommendation if you’re putting together a starter stack of elegant, moody Australian releases. For anyone browsing vinyl records Australia wide, Islands Part 2 fits neatly into that growing shelf of local, world-class art pop that doesn’t shout to be heard.

There’s a quiet confidence running through this release. No gimmicks, no grand gestures, just two artists with keen ears and sharp instincts trusting the songs to carry their own weight. If you came in through Iansek’s work with Big Scary or #1 Dads, you’ll recognise the patient pacing and minimalist palette. If you followed Snowdon from earlier projects, you’ll hear a singer fully at home in his range, using it like a light rather than a torch. Put it on late. Let it creep up on you. And if you’re the sort who files albums by mood, keep Islands Part 2 within reach of the turntable. It’s the kind of record that turns a quiet room into a place you want to stay.