Unloved - Polychrome (LP)

Polychrome feels like a secret history of Unloved, the darkly glamorous trio of Jade Vincent, David Holmes, and Keefus Ciancia whose music poured through Killing Eve like perfume in a crowded room. Released in 2023 on Heavenly Recordings, it plays less like a standard compilation and more like a neon-lit scrapbook, pulling together songs the band created across the show’s run and shaping them into something that stands on its own. If you’ve followed Unloved since Guilty of Love and Heartbreak, or went down the rabbit hole after The Pink Album, you’ll recognize the palette. Girl-group melodies that sound beamed in from some lost 60s radio, knives-out guitars, vibraphone shimmer, drum breaks that could have been cut at Gold Star, and Vincent’s voice, cool and conspiratorial, like she’s sharing a wicked plan while the string section smolders.

Holmes and Ciancia have always been enviable crate diggers and arrangers. Holmes brought DJ instincts and cinematic flair from Belfast club culture and film work, while Ciancia honed dusty-luxe atmospheres through years in Los Angeles studios and scoring gigs. Vincent is the secret weapon, an LA nocturnal poet who can make a single held note feel dangerous. The trio first clicked around Vincent and Ciancia’s long-running Rotary Room nights, and that sense of late-hour collaboration still animates Polychrome. You can practically hear the tapes rolling, a room of vintage amps humming, a tambourine counting down to trouble.

Killing Eve made Unloved folk heroes. The show’s four seasons leaned on their songs to smudge the edges of time, turning modern scenes into something out of a French thriller. Polychrome gives those cues a proper home. It is not a mere souvenir. The sequencing flows like a narrative, all glinting surfaces and lurking menace, then moments of tenderness that land without cynicism. You get the full Unloved chemistry in miniature. Holmes’s ear for placement. Ciancia’s knack for dust and glue. Vincent’s phrasing, which can make a single word do three jobs at once.

What’s striking is how alive everything feels in album form. The production loves space. Guitars twang and curl at the edges, the bass often treads with spy-movie elegance, and the percussion sits in the pocket like a heartbeat. When the strings arrive, they don’t smother. They sting. It is the rare pop-noir that remembers to swing. There is also an undercurrent of romance that gets lost when you only encounter these songs as sync moments on TV. Heard here, the melodies glow. Even the more venomous numbers feel hand cut and human, more Le Samouraï than playlist paste.

Polychrome also works as a gateway drug if you are just catching up. It points backward to the foggy allure of Heartbreak and forward to the technicolor sprawl of The Pink Album. And it underscores why Unloved vinyl has become such a thing among collectors. Heavenly’s pressings tend to do right by this kind of sound, giving the drums weight and the high end a bit of sparkle without sanding off the grit. If you find Polychrome vinyl in a Melbourne record store, or you buy Unloved records online from your favorite shop, you will hear why people insist on spinning this rather than streaming it on tinny speakers. The room changes when the needle drops.

A small pleasure with Unloved albums on vinyl is reading the credits while the record runs, spotting familiar names and inferring the signal chain. Holmes and Ciancia are no strangers to analog gear and old-school techniques, and while the band never treats process like a gimmick, you can sense the comfort of tape, real rooms, and performance. That tactile quality suits Vincent. She sounds present, an inch from your ear, and her phrasing has the sly theatricality of a lounge singer who has read too much crime fiction.

Critical reception for Unloved has long circled the same adjectives, but Polychrome reminds you there is a real songwriting engine under the mood. Hooks land. Bridges lift. The choruses stick. It would be easy for a set tied to a hit series to feel like crumbs from the table. This feels like a meal. If you are already collecting Heavenly titles, this sits nicely next to the earlier LPs and the related Killing Eve soundtracks on the shelf. And if you are just here because Polychrome showed up on a staff-picks endcap, welcome. This is the one that explains the cult.

In a market clogged with polite retro, Unloved still sound sly and specific. They remember that danger and desire belong to the same family, and that reverb only matters if the song can carry it. Put Polychrome on late, let the corners of the room darken, and see if you do not start plotting.