The Orielles - Disco Volador (LP) - Transparent Orange w/ Green Blob Vinyl

The Orielles took a big step up with Disco Volador, a gleaming second album that landed in February 2020 on Heavenly Recordings and still feels like a small universe you can live inside. The Halifax trio of Sidonie B Hand-Halford, Esmé Dee Hand-Halford and Henry Carlyle Wade had already hinted at a taste for groove and left‑field pop on their debut, but this one locks into a richer orbit. It leans into space age funk, post‑punk snap and a soft focus dreaminess that nods to Stereolab and Broadcast without feeling derivative. It’s playful and studious at once, which is a tricky balance, and they make it sound effortless.

The sound moves on a clean, elastic rhythm section. Sid’s drumming is taut and dance‑minded, the sort of kit work that keeps your feet moving while refusing to show off. Esmé’s bass curls around it with a springy tone that gives every song a gentle push. Then Henry splashes colour with chiming guitar lines, surfy twang and little squalls of noise that arrive like passing satellites. Esmé’s voice floats above it all, cool and curious, more guide than diva, which suits the band’s eye for texture over bombast.

If you heard the early single Come Down On Jupiter when it first dropped, you’ll remember that weightless groove and the way the chorus blooms without ever turning into a big rock moment. It promised a record that chased euphoria by stealth, and the album delivers. Space Samba, subtitled Disco Volador Theme, is exactly what the name says. The percussion shuffles, the bass bounces, and the whole thing shimmers like neon on wet pavement. It is hard to stay still. Bobbi’s Second World pulls you sideways into a more cinematic pocket, all prismatic keyboards and sly rhythms, the band pivoting between kosmische drift and dancefloor compulsion with a grin you can hear.

Plenty of British critics clocked the leap. NME and The Guardian both praised the record’s sense of adventure and its ear for rhythm, and you could hear why within the first three tracks. The Orielles let ideas breathe. Songs stretch, tilt and refract, but never lose their pulse. There are little instrumental passages where you can picture the three of them facing each other in the studio, following a new line until it makes sense. The tones are warm and analogue, with a classy sheen that avoids the brittle edges that flatten a lot of indie records.

Part of why Disco Volador works is the band’s magpie approach to dance music history. You catch flashes of cumbia lilt, bossa sway and Northern nightclub muscle, stitched into indie pop so naturally that the seams vanish. The Orielles have always been film buffs too, and the album plays like a half‑remembered sci‑fi road trip. The title translates from Spanish as flying disc, of course, and the lyrics keep looking up at the night sky even when the rhythms hug the ground. That blend of star‑gazing and crate‑digging gives the record its charm.

It’s also a lovely listen on wax. The Heavenly pressing has an airy top end and a roomy low end that flatters the percussion and bass, and the stereo field feels like it was designed for a living room with the lights low. If you’re hunting for The Orielles vinyl, start here. Disco Volador vinyl rewards repeat spins, the kind of album you file next to your Stereolab and ESG records and reach for whenever you want to feel your lounge tilt into a small club. If you buy The Orielles records online, add this one to cart before the prices creep. It’s one of those quiet modern classics that disappears from shops, then becomes a whispered recommendation.

I’ve pulled copies out of the new arrivals bin for customers at a Melbourne record store and watched the eyebrows go up by track two. The Orielles albums on vinyl do that. They’re familiar enough to hook casual browsers, but detailed enough for the heads who love to talk about congas, tape echo and the perfect hi‑hat pattern. Disco Volador invites that kind of chatter, yet it never forgets to have fun.

Four years on, it still feels like a highlight of the UK’s indie‑dance conversation, a record that dodged nostalgia while speaking fluently with the past. If you’re building a cart of vinyl records Australia wide and need something that will make the room feel lighter, this is a safe bet. Put it on, let the orbit settle, and see where you end up.