Audiopile Review: After a pair of self-released cassettes, Detroit duo Clinic Stars make the big leap over to Kranky for their debut proper, marking only the third new act to appear on the label over the past four years. A new act on Kranky is sure to draw the ear of any longtime listener of the label, who have had an incredible streak of elevating and nurturing artists very early in their careers, many of them becoming institutions within the interconnected worlds of post-rock, ambient and shoegaze. Loscil, Labradford, Tim Hecker, Low, Stars of the Lid, Pan•American…the list goes on. And now Kranky have bestowed upon us one of the more remarkable bands to spring up during the current resurgence of shoegaze and dream-pop, slotting in neatly to the label’s unwavering aesthetic. Advancing from the somewhat lo-fi sound of their previous EPs, partially helped by building their own studio prior to recording the album, Clinic Stars fully embrace the warm cloak of ethereality, arriving at a fully formed sound that may have you checking the date on the back of the sleeve. Echoing classic acts like Cocteau Twins and Slowdive, the duo deploy the well-worn sound of gauzy guitars, thickly layered ambience, pillowy drum machines and breathy vocals, but they supply enough of their own character to satisfy even the most hardened shoegaze fan. Fans of Kranky mainstay Grouper, particularly in her more formally structured song zone (think “Heavy Water/I’d Rather Be Sleeping” or “Headache”), will certainly need to hear this, the duo reaching through a similar Liz Harris-esque haze in their glorious attempt to grasp the ineffable. Sincerely, one of this years best albums.

The full-length debut by Detroit duo Giovanna Lenski and Christian Molik aka Clinic Stars both refines and redefines their pitch-perfect fusion of downer-pop balladry and featherweight shoegaze: Only Hinting. Recorded and produced at the band’s home studio, the album was crafted across 2022 and 2023, patiently layering FX and spatial depths to give each song a swirling, subconscious undertow. From the strummed whirlpool of “I Am The Dancer” to the gated reverb of “Remain” to the greyscale guitar reverie of “Isn’t It,” the record aches as much as moves, daydreaming of escape and transcendence.

The group cite a desire to leave their “industrial environment” as muse, although the songs also revel in the romance of longing itself, in the beauty of hearts grown distant. The duo’s previous EPs, 10,000 Dreams (2021) and April’s Past (2022), captured a similarly swooning slowcore palette, but Only Hinting hits different. Here haze is as much instrument as texture, gauze and melody married as one, traced in elegant arcs across cities streaked in shadow.