Optica, the band’s fourth studio album, takes the exact opposite approach. Largely self-produced and recorded over a luxurious year-and-a-half, it’s meticulously crafted and sonically sprawling: big-budget synth-pop melancholy colored by strings, brass and woodwinds. With the one-two punch of “Sugar” and “Illusions,” Optica opens with its safest, most easily digestible tracks: Olenius doling out his finest Robert Smith hooks over disco rhythms, new-wave synths and rich orchestrations. But Optica is more fascinating when it uses those elements in more unusual ways: Mid-tempo ballad “Blue Ice” simmers in its own textures (palm-muted guitars, strings, ‘80s tom-tom fills), but never boils over into an obvious climax; the tense “Walking in Your Footsteps” colors its spread of pianos and synths with left-field jazz flute. Olenius, like Smith before him, has a knack for singing bleak lyrics in a way that sounds oddly comforting—and that ambiguity adds a layer of mystery (“It’s where I’m coming from; it’s where you’re going,” he sings on “Footsteps,” blurring the line between stalker and heartsick lover, “In a dark tunnel, blindfolded / It’s where you leave your home and I follow the steps / Into the future, like I know what’s coming”).
The worst you can say about Optica is that it’s sometimes pleasantly bland—but even when it doesn’t rattle or intrigue (the mumbly “Glasgow,” the drowsy dream-pop of “Circles”), it still sounds wonderful. In a way, blowing up their sound was just as risky as reigning it in (check Metric’s hollow, super-glossy 2012 album, Synthetica). For the most part, though, Shout Out Louds match their musical grandeur with emotional grandeur. And messy romanticism is their natural milieu.