Dust’s Sky Is Falling doesn’t so much make a statement as just show up and grab your attention. The Australian 5-piece follow up on their 2023 debut with an album that isn’t polished or overworked; it feels lived-in, restless, and full of unexpected twists.
From the opening notes of “Drawbacks”, there’s an electricity that never really fades. The band sounds like they’re constantly teetering between chaos and control, pushing into jagged, noisy terrain but always pulling themselves back just before everything unravels. It’s that sense of tension, of not quite knowing where the next turn will lead, that gives Sky Is Falling its bite and its beauty.
One of the boldest moves giving the record real character is the use of the saxophone. Where many punk-tinged or post-punk acts lean heavily on guitars, Dust threads sax through the fabric of their songs, sometimes discreet, sometimes insistent. That this works, especially on faster, more chaotic numbers like “Swamped”, is part of what makes Sky Is Falling such a compelling listen.
“Swamped” itself is a jolt of energy, an almost punk-rock burst that drives with precision and urgency. Yet even here the sax doesn’t feel tacked on – it cuts through the haze, carving space rather than crowding it. The sound brings a strange lightness to the aggression, a melodic counterpoint that never undermines the intensity. On a slower, more introspective moment – and album highlight – like “Two Dogs”, the saxophone drifts to the front, mournful, searching, letting the emotion breathe. It’s a shift in mood that feels natural, as if Dust are exhaling between storms.
Throughout the album, the band oscillate between scrappy nervous energy and moments of fragile clarity. There’s a gorgeous messiness at play – one minute sharp and angular (“Day Tight”), the next almost cinematic (“Aside”). It’s that balance between noise and nuance that keeps Sky Is Falling from slipping into formula. The record carries a raw, live-wire feel, as though it could tilt into chaos at any second but somehow never does.
Not everything lands perfectly, some transitions stumble, and a few ideas feel half-formed, but the risks feel necessary. A debut album is your whole life condensed into sound; years of influences, emotions and experiences inevitably bleed through, making it impossible to confine to one genre or mood.
That’s what makes Sky Is Falling so intriguing; it captures a band still absorbing and still defining themselves in real time. The imperfections give the album texture and nerve, and when the band leans into that space between control and collapse, they sound thrillingly alive. The saxophone isn’t a gimmick here; it’s the thread pulling everything together, a reminder that even in their most unhinged moments, Dust are reaching for something bigger.
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