The Laurels - Sonicology (LP)

Sonicology finds Sydney’s long-running psych crew The Laurels stepping out of the fuzz cloud and switching on a few extra machines, without losing the bite that made their early days so thrilling. Released in 2016 on the dependable Rice Is Nice label, it arrives as their second full-length and plays like a band testing how far they can stretch their sound while still moving bodies in a room. The guitars still smoulder, but now there are drum loops snapping under the haze, synths bubbling at the edges, and a sharper sense of motion that nods to crate-dug beats as much as it does to shoegaze’s classic blur.

If Plains was the acid-dipped road trip, Sonicology is the neon-lit after party. The opener slides in with a thick low end and a tight rhythmic grid that The Laurels ride with real intent. You hear it straight away on Reentry, which punches hardest here. The kick is clipped and insistent, the bassline rolls, and the guitars slide between siren wail and soft shimmer. It’s the kind of track that would turn a small stage into a swirl of strobe and sweat, but it works just as well at home when you turn the volume to that spot your neighbours can still forgive.

What’s striking is how considered the palette feels. The band have always loved a wall of sound, and they still do, but you can pick out the layers now. Percussive details fire in the corners. Vocals sit clearer in the pocket while still wearing a thin veil of reverb, lending the hooks a dreamy pull rather than burying them outright. There’s a mid-album stretch where the tempos loosen and the mood gets darker, and the synth work really pays off there. Chords bend like heat haze, then the guitars come in with that familiar, beautifully overdriven bloom. It’s easy to imagine them tracking these parts late in a small Sydney studio, lights low, letting the takes stretch until the groove felt right.

Sonicology also shows a band thinking about shape and flow. The sequencing makes sense on a turntable. Side A builds from tight and punchy toward something more expansive, while Side B leans into the foggier corners and then claws back toward uplift. On Sonicology vinyl that arc feels especially satisfying, since the bass presence and stereo spread give the arrangements room to breathe. The Laurels vinyl has always been a good way to hear their detail, but this one arguably benefits most from the format. If you hunt for The Laurels albums on vinyl, keep an eye out for a clean copy of this. It’s not just a completionist thing. The production choices reward a proper spin.

There’s also a quiet confidence running through the songwriting. Choruses arrive a beat later than you expect, and when they land they stick. Even the more abrasive moments show restraint. A few tracks flirt with breakbeats and chopped samples, and the band thread those ideas into their psych roots rather than treating them like a novelty. Fans of Primal Scream’s adventurous edges, early The Horrors, or the headier side of Aussie psych will find a lot to love here. Yet it still sounds like The Laurels, that blend of romantic swirl and street-level grit that made their early singles such a fuss in Sydney.

The reception at the time noted the shift toward rhythm and texture, and that feels spot on. But repeat listens bring out the heart in these songs. There’s a reflective streak that cuts through the amps and pads, a sense of a band who have played countless late shows and put those nights into the writing. You can almost smell the beer-soaked carpet of a small room when the guitars lift in the final minutes and the drums push them home.

If you’re crate-digging in a Melbourne record store or trawling the better corners of vinyl records Australia, Sonicology is the one to grab if you want something that still hits hard but keeps opening up over time. And if you prefer to buy The Laurels records online, don’t sleep on a copy of Sonicology vinyl while you’re there. It’s a smart, muscular, and quietly adventurous second act from a band that knows how to keep the walls of sound standing while carving fresh shapes into them.