The middle of “Poltergeist” works in a similar way. A classic Duster tale about the lies we tell one another, the accusatory lullaby slips eventually into a rivulet of static dotted by a faint keyboard melody. It is the feeling of holding onto reality, even if you know what you believe might not actually be real or right. These bits suggest that Duster are searching for other ways to illustrate their sad and sweet tales, staying true to the ragtag charm of their archive but not necessarily its structure.
These, though, are the exceptions that prove the past largely rules here, which is not to say In Dreams is bad. “Quiet Eyes” is a lovely bedtime lullaby, its patient chords and insistent rhythm like a heart rate coming to rest. Amber coos a lover into dreams, his voice curling like a sleepy smile. Above a spring-loaded beat and the twinkle of a Rhodes keyboard, Clay Parton sings during “Black Lace” as if he’s trying to disappear behind the sound, a repetitive guitar lick swiping across the mix like it’s covering for him. This ineffable sense that Duster are perpetually in the act of vanishing has always been one of their primary lures. It remains effective.
Though not their best song, “Inside Out,” from Stratosphere, became Duster’s biggest hit (nearly 13 billion TikTok streams) because it pulls outsized emotions into a small space, 140 ragged seconds that somehow contain a lifetime of tumult. Twice as long, the instrumental wonder “Cosmotransporter” is similar, a cycle of tension and release that holds a world of frustration and redemption, anxiety and exhalation within a tight window. Think M83, pulling the shades on the city to record in some drab suburban living room.
Last year, in celebration of Stratosphere’s 25th anniversary, Numero Group shot a copy into space. On YouTube, you could watch it leave behind its earthbound gray day and rise above the clouds, sun glinting at the camera’s edge. It was a funny little stunt for a record that achieved proverbial liftoff nearly 20 years after it was made, once a new generation stumbled upon its wealth of lo-fi glories online. Why not the sky, then? It didn’t attain orbit, of course, so you could watch it come back down, too, returning through the clouds and over an endless expanse of farmers’ fields before sending rabbits scurrying as it hurtled toward the earth. In Dreams isn’t at all a crash-landing, but it is a soft one, as Duster settle into a perception of themselves rather than fly above it.
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