Dry Cleaning - Secret Love

Dry Cleaning’s first album since 2022 sticks firmly to the band’s established ethos: Secret Love feels aloof, impenetrable, and wickedly funny.

Nearly four years have passed since British post-punks Dry Cleaning last released a full-length. Stumpwork arrived in October 2022, riding the wave of near-universal acclaim that greeted their 2021 debut New Long Leg. Secret Love, the band’s third album, was recorded under the guidance of the ever-reliable Cate Le Bon — whose resume includes work with Deerhunter, Devendra Banhart, Wilco, and Horsegirl, and who is currently deep in collaboration with St. Vincent. Frontwoman Florence Shaw has said she chose Le Bon for her unwavering optimism and openness, qualities that subtly permeate the record’s otherwise frosty exterior.

Secret Love comfortably occupies a space at rock’s avant-garde edge. It fuses Reagan-era paranoia from early-’80s American punk and hardcore with stoner-rock drag, dystopian decay, and a playful streak of no wave. Few bands capture the ambient anxiety of contemporary life as sharply as Dry Cleaning. The lead single “Hit My Head All Day” clamps the listener in handcuffs of melancholy and despair born from information warfare and relentless misinformation. Over acerbic drum patterns and jagged guitar lines, Shaw delivers her lines with a deadpan sneer, singing as if into a void and lulling the listener into a strange, disquieting trance.

Still, Dry Cleaning know how to make gravity entertaining. “Cruise Ship Designer” is a hilarious vignette about the lifestyle of — exactly what the title suggests. Here, Shaw slips into the role of a soulless TikTok AI vocalist, explaining how bridges are built and how to properly install beams for a skyscraper, all through bland, disposable pop melodies. The track closes with the line, “I make sure there are hidden messages in my work” — a neat thesis statement for Dry Cleaning’s entire catalog. Their debut New Long Leg was famously stitched together from fragments of strangers’ conversations Shaw overheard in public spaces. The result was a fascinating experiment: some listeners dismissed it as incoherent nonsense, while others obsessively searched for buried meanings.

That stream-of-consciousness approach continues on “My Soul / Half Pint,” an ode to personal desires and a quiet reckoning with patriarchy. Shaw admits she loves decorating her home but despises cleaning it, while pointedly noting that men avoided such labor for centuries. Nearby lurks the absurdly funny “Evil Evil Idiot,” where Florence obsessively catalogs her cooking methods. At times, Secret Love can feel elusive due to its constant shifts in subject matter. On “Blood,” Shaw condemns humanity’s indifference toward images of war and genocide, only to veer abruptly into mundane questions about moving house. Understanding Shaw is rarely straightforward: Secret Love plays like a café conversation with someone who either couldn’t care less about you — or a close friend with severe ADHD.

On “Cute Things,” Shaw reflects on love with an unvarnished acceptance of her partner, confessing that some supposedly endearing things actually make her uncomfortable. In the same breath, she expresses regret that her partner was attacked by a dog. Moments like these disarm the listener, stripping her lyrics of any lingering pretension. The narrative continues on the oppressive “I Need You,” where she admits that her partner is the only thing keeping her afloat. She remains there, waiting in a talcum powder box, hoping her lover will pour her into their palm. Shaw has said she’s so brutally honest because she’s trying to hit listeners straight in the heart. “Fuck the world,” she ultimately concludes.

Secret Love is both icy and luminous, like a winter landscape seen through your living room window. As with their previous records, Dry Cleaning walk the tightrope between madness and brilliance, maintaining their knack for pairing absurdity with socially urgent themes. You don’t need to fully decode it to appreciate it: everyday details can always be transformed into something strange and compelling. Sometimes, all that’s required is accepting the invitation — and only occasionally peeking behind the curtain.

7.7/10