Album Review: Ivy Lab - Infinite Falling Ground Pt.2
Label: Twenty Twenty London Recordings
Released: August 22nd, 2024
Genre: Halftime, Experimental Bass
Tracklist:
01. The Perimeter
02. Left With You
03. Curves
04. Precious
05. Why does she pace pt 1
06. Olo
07. Tearjerker
08. Cut Cut
09. Why does she pace pt 2
10. Saxon
11. Blockhead
12. Lucy
13. Earthflax
14. Prodigal
Ivy Lab achieve the impossible with a satisfying follow-up to the 2022 original.
Rarely does a sequel hold up to its predecessor, so when British bass duo Ivy Lab announced Infinite Falling Ground—also known as one of my favorite records of all time—would be getting a second installment, I was equal parts nervous and excited. I have a lot of regrets about the first album. I was too busy to consider it for coverage when it was pitched to me months in advance, I waited months after its release to listen to it, and I missed the audio/visual tour because I had prior engagements during their New York City tour stop. It doesn’t take away from what that record means to me, but the release of part two meant that this I could have a second chance. It would make me feel that much worse about everything around the original if it turned out to be disappointing.
IFG2’s opening didn’t qualm my fears. “The Perimeter” begins fuzzy keys that guide a scramble of scattered screeching synths and soulful vocal riffs. It’s a gripping, almost cinematic, introduction to the project, but it paled in comparison to the original’s lullaby-like “Celeste” which felt raw with emotion.
During the press run of IFG1, Ivy Lab’s more forward-facing half, Gove, told Mixmag writer Gemma Ross that the album helped them out of their imposter syndrome for the first time in their careers. The authenticity was palpable, with songs like “Everythingmustchange,” “Merlot,” and “Our Time” (and that’s just naming the standouts) burning with fervency that forces you to feel something and everything all at the same time.
What it comes down to is that part two felt like it was made with the audio/visual show already in mind. It bursts with grandiose stretches—like the opener—that are breathtaking, just in a different way. That’s also not to say IFG2 doesn’t have its tender moments. It has plenty. “Precious” was the first song in the tracklist that gave me hope about the record being as good as the first. The keys in the first half are soft and spacious, as if they’re bubbling and on the verge of popping. The vocals come midway through, disturbing the peaceful introspection with yearning cries that instigated my own tears. “Saxon” shows off the duo’s experimental side, bringing back the distorted synths that nearly turned me off in the beginning, before switching them out for soulful R&B samples. The track encompasses what Ivy Lab are best at—surprising listeners by blending contradictory sounds to prove a point: divergent rhythms can be just as poignant as explicit melodies. They do something similar in “Lucy,” unpredictably layering a soothing serenade with pitched-up rap verses.
I was already sold on the IFG2 by the time “Prodigal” closed it out. It’s another one of the album’s strengths, bursting with optimistic bird chirps that peep through the oscillating vocals that sing, “I said I wouldn’t be back no more.” The mixed messages could refer to a lot of things—an unidentifiable past lover, the fact that they’re literally back with a second edition of the record, or maybe it’s a feeling. “We felt like we might have escaped that sense of imposter syndrome for the first time in our careers,” Gove told Mixmag in that same November 2022 cover story. “But now, a few weeks on from the album coming out, I'm going back into that headspace.”
We all have felt the confusion of “Prodigal.” But sometimes going back feels necessary. For me, it was giving myself another chance with Infinite Falling Ground Pt. 2. I’m glad I did. While I might feel like I wasted time and opportunities when Infinite Falling Ground dropped, everything that happened led me to where I am now. And that’s opening for Ivy Lab on this LP’s tour.
