Stung kicks into gear with eight-minute midpoint track Edge of the World Pt. 3. The third chapter in a series of songs that initiated on 2017’s The Weather, the true highlight of Pond’s tenth album rises steadily before spreading arms, stood on a mountaintop, soon ascending a tractor beam as peaceful woodwinds and curious synths are traded for fuzzy, life-affirming guitar outbursts.
Aesthetically, the piece will represent the vision of Stung until it refuses to. It does represent the album’s vision in sheer size; its duration, build, and capstone payoff project the vast exteriors portrayed by the Aussie band’s wide-open use of synthesisers. Via larger colours and larger landscapes, Stung makes an ocean out of Pond.
With momentum on its side, Stung carries its magical brand of synth-psych over to Boys Don’t Crash, declared via Eno-produced Bowie in its basslines, friendly familiarity in its chords, and Nick Allbrook’s swinging vocals, upfront no matter how distant they may appear. Similar summits are noticed on earlier track (I’m) Stung.
Photographing blue skies and their waspy intruders, O’UV Ray opens up on its chorus through the arrival of a stratospheric synth orchestra. Progressive sans virtuosity, any synth setting Pond get their hands on paints a gorgeous picture, akin to the throwback, intergalactic fuzz of Neon River – serious Hobo Rocket / Man It Feels Like Space Again vibes – and maximalist instrumental hybrid Elf Bar Blues; a third hypnagogic, a third Floydian, a third digital dystopia.
The scope of Fell From Grace With the Sea is realised as strings and ‘80s synths rush over its gentler pianos. They terrorise and bully any calm to lead its steady build into a gaping climax, a pleasure cruise disturbed by a sea monster. The heartbreak of Elephant Gun creates space; echoey vocals press against miniscule instrumentation like a photograph of sky with a tiny bit of something else beneath it.
As for the tracks that appear before we reach the edge of the world, the sun flashes a smile over Constant Picnic, greeted by the tune’s Beatles-referencing lyrics, gleaming breathily with synth twinkles and drum rampancy. It’s par for the course, but Stung creates sparkling imagery even with ‘80s balladry (Sunrise for the Lonely) and ball gag funk (So Lo).
Being Pond’s second longest album – Beard, Wives, Denim beats it by a few seconds – obviously contributes to Stung’s vastness. But it’s not the size of the parcel that matters; its contents themselves are stunningly huge. Inspired by the ugly depth of the Earth around them, Pond use their fifty-four minutes to take on the world with their take on the world, on an album that thrills with scope and size.