There’s a strange kind of warmth in It’s Lovely, Come On In, the debut album from thredd, even as the group insists on calling their sound “cold pop.” The trio (Will Lister, Max Winter, and Imogen and The Knife) emerged from Laylow’s dimly lit basement in West London with a set of songs that feel both austere and welcoming, like stepping into a half-lit room where the radiator’s been left on all night. The record finds tension in that contradiction: spacious production laced with tightly wound beats, melancholic vocals delivered with unflinching intimacy. It’s a debut that wears its rawness proudly, never fussed into perfection, and all the more striking for it.
“Cold pop” may sound like a gimmick, but it makes sense when you hear it. “It was actually coined by Big Jeff from Bristol,” the band explain. “To us it reflects a certain dark edge in the music and a collective directness.” There are echoes of The xx in the skeletal arrangements and frosted edges, but thredd sidestep imitation with a sharper rhythmic drive and a willingness to let their songs smolder rather than simply brood. On opening track “Horseshow,” Will’s post-trip hop drum programming locks into Max’s uncanny harmonic instincts, while Immy’s vocals hover like condensation on glass, fragile but insistent. “Horseshow for me,” Will adds, “presents a strong imagery that is conjured up by the writing and production working in harmony… it’s a nice balance of tongue in cheek but seriousness.” The result isn’t frigid so much as suspended, the kind of pop that resists warmth until it suddenly cracks open.
“We just didn’t have time to question a lot of decisions”
The immediacy of It’s Lovely, Come On In stems directly from its origins. “We just didn’t have time to question a lot of decisions,” they say of their Laylow residency. “It was really beneficial because a lot of it was based purely on instincts as a group.” That urgency thrums through the record: “We Don’t Speak Anymore” lashes out with a one-day’s work volatility, while “Funny Girl” strips everything to bare confessions. Immy recalls, “The lyrics were pulled from a vulnerable notes app entry I’d made a while back… I felt like I’d given a very raw and real bit of myself to the process. I felt more glued-in after that.”
During those weeks holed up at Laylow, the band also immersed themselves in shared listening sessions that seeped into the creative process. “Britney — In The Zone. Radiohead — TKOL RMX 1234567. Massive Attack — Mezzanine,” they list, alongside Metronomy and other 90s touchstones. You can hear that spectrum play out across the album. “Party”’s dance-floor surge echoes Britney’s pop ambition, while “Something For My Head” channels trip hop’s heavy-lidded tension. “’Something For My Head’ or ‘Horseshow’,” they reflect, “both capture the basement of Laylow in different ways… it was November, freezing cold, we were the only ones in the building.” That sense of isolation is baked into the tracks themselves, a reminder of the peculiar environment that birthed them.
thredd feel right at home with Scenic Route
What holds the album together is a refusal to sand down the edges. “The album never really got mixed,” they admit. “All the sounds and layers in it exist as they were recorded in, with barely any tweaking afterwards. Long live compression.” Scenic Route, the label behind the release, has built its reputation on spotlighting artists who thrive in the margins, and thredd feel right at home there. It’s Lovely, Come On In doesn’t posture as a grand statement: it’s too immediate, too unvarnished for that. Instead, it captures a fleeting moment of collaboration and survival, a snapshot of three musicians throwing their ideas into the air and watching them land in uncanny harmony.
And that atmosphere remains tethered to place. Asked to name one location that embodies the record, the band are quick to answer: “Laylow, specifically the room at the top where there were old clothes, bottles of booze, mannequins and a massive bath.” Like that room, the album is cluttered and uncanny, but charged with unexpected magic. It’s not a debut that tries to prove too much, it just opens the door and invites you into its peculiar vibe.
Arnaud, a passionate music enthusiast from France, now based in Madrid, founded HighClouds in 2015. With an ear for the dreamy, the ethereal, and the unconventional, he thrives on discovering and sharing boundary-pushing sounds. If it’s weird, bold, and forward-thinking, you can bet he’s here for it.
