Francesco Amoroso per TRISTE©

Few Border’s proper debut album, Lost And Found (released once again on Subjangle just months after the EP collection, In The Twilight, and the new EP The Fire Within) is the natural culmination of Olivier Boutry’s quietly enchanting DIY universe: a record where jangly guitars shimmer, delicate bells sparkle, keyboards caress, and even the occasional fake trumpet somehow manages to convey genuine emotional weight. Drawing from the timeless lineage of Sarah Records, C86, Creation-era indie pop, and the wistful romance of bands like The Smiths and The Red, Pinks And Purples, flirting with the dream pop of more recent bands like Pale Spectres and Swiss Portrait, and not forgetting lessons of New Order and the modern (light)post-punk of Motorama, Boutry crafts songs that are intimate and communicative, nostalgic, but somehow, jubilant and strikingly fresh. There’s a beautifully homemade quality to the album: crystal-clear melodies drift through hazy arrangements like postcards from forgotten shores and late-evening train rides. Every track carries the warmth of its solitary creator completely immersed in his own world, proving once again that Few Border’s greatest strength is Olivier’s instinct for balancing melancholy with sweetness. Lost And Found is dream-pop for people who still believe guitars can sparkle and sadness can feel comforting. A heartfelt, luminous debut full of charm, longing, and timeless indie-pop magic.

Francesco Amoroso per TRISTE©

Neon Pink, the second album from Sunlit, confirms how Joe Moore (also active with the magnificent The Yearning – recently returned with a new single- Julie et Joe, and The Perfect Kiss) has refined the introspective direction of his debut into something more immediate and emotionally exposed. Rooted in a gentle, caressing strain of dream pop, the album unfolds as a direct meditation on love in its many forms: Beside recounts a fulfilling and reciprocated relationship; the title track captures the exhilarating moment when you sense that your loved one reciprocates; Pompeii Moment, like a more mature version of the Smiths’ There Is a Light…, revels in the idea of ​​dying beside your loved one when the world ends. Its sonic palette draws on familiar atmospheres, and its ethereal guitars are wrapped in soft, enveloping production. Yet Moore shapes these influences into something distinctly personal, where nostalgia and melancholy are balanced by a quiet, dreamlike sense of contentment. The melodies, supported by restrained arrangements that enhance their mood, are subtle yet memorable, almost as if Cigarettes After Sex had suddenly stopped writing the same song over and over again. What stands out most is the emotional arc: the record moves seamlessly from warmth and connection to longing and quiet pain (the album’s saddest song, Let You Down, describes the end of a relationship), capturing fleeting moments with disarming sincerity. Moore’s vocals, intimate and unguarded, reinforce this closeness, lending the songs a human fragility that anchors the lush instrumentation. Neon Pink ultimately maintains a delicate balance between vulnerability and clarity. An album of shadowy, understated beauty that simultaneously fascinates and enthralls.