Unloved - The Pink Album (2LP)

Unloved’s The Pink Album landed in 2022 on Heavenly Recordings, and it sounds like it slipped out of a smoky cinema sometime in the late 60s then found a new life under neon. The trio of David Holmes, Keefus Ciancia and Jade Vincent already had a cult following thanks to their work across Killing Eve, where their songs became part of the show’s sly grin. Here they stretch that world across a long, luxuriant set that moves like a late night soundtrack, all hush and menace and soft-focus glamour.

Jade Vincent is the anchor. Her voice sits low in the mix, conspiratorial, almost whisper-close, and it keeps the mood intimate even when the arrangements start to bloom. Holmes and Ciancia build those arrangements with real care. You get tremolo guitars that nod to Morricone, vibraphone glints, brushed drums, and the kind of reverb that makes a room feel larger than it is. It’s not pastiche though. The songwriting has a modern pulse, and the rhythm programming often keeps things taut where a retro act would go syrupy.

Several songs have already lived rich lives. Mother’s Been A Bad Girl moves with sly swagger, a noir strut that feels tailor-made for a chase scene through back alleys. Turn Of The Screw leans darker, all coiled tension and resigned cool. WTC is more brittle and spectral, a ghost-light waltz that lingers longer than you expect. I Don’t Know What To Do Without You drifts toward torch-song territory without losing that Unloved poise. It’s the balance they keep hitting. The melodies are simple and strong, but the textures around them crackle with detail.

Holmes has long been a master of the cinematic groove, from his solo records to those Ocean’s soundtracks, and you can hear that instinct for pacing. The Pink Album plays like a carefully sequenced compilation you’d stumble across in a friend’s flat and copy immediately. Ciancia’s fingerprints are all over the keys and atmosphere. He’s one of those players who can make a cheap organ sound like treasure, and the production often gives small sounds star billing. Nothing feels flashy. Everything feels chosen.

It’s also a generous record. There’s a lot of music here, and the band isn’t in a hurry to show off the hooks. That pays off on repeat listens. A little guitar lick will leap out on the third spin. A ghostly backing vocal will suddenly click and reframe a chorus. If you came in through Killing Eve, you’ll find that same delicious bite, but the deeper cuts bring slower charms. It’s a world you can hang out in, not just a few good cues.

On vinyl this music really breathes. The Pink Album vinyl has the kind of headroom that lets the bass bloom and the strings hover without getting glassy. I grabbed my copy after a browse at a Melbourne record store and it’s become a quiet favourite for late nights. If you’re hunting Unloved vinyl, this is the one to start with, and it sits nicely alongside their earlier LPs on the shelf. There’s pleasure in the object too, from the artwork to the heft, and if you prefer to buy Unloved records online, there are solid pressings floating around from local shops that specialise in vinyl records Australia wide.

What keeps me coming back is the way Unloved reconcile tenderness with threat. One moment you’re in a smoky club, the next you’re walking home alone and every streetlight feels like a spotlight. It’s music that understands glamour and danger are cousins, and that a well-placed tambourine can be as dramatic as a brass stab. The references are there if you want them, from Italian soundtrack sleaze to girl-group sweetness, but the trio fold those influences into their own language.

If you’re already in the Unloved camp, The Pink Album feels like a culmination of what started on Guilty Of Love and deepened on Heartbreak. If you’re new, it’s a door you can walk through and find the whole house already furnished. Unloved albums on vinyl tend to reward proper volume and a patient ear, and this one is no exception. Put it on when the house is quiet, let Jade Vincent pull you in close, and see if you don’t find yourself flipping it back to side A as the sun comes up.