Two years after a debut that dazzled with tales of life in the suburbs, Ontario’s Dizzy return with a follow-up that delves into some of the biggest questions of all. Taking in painful memories, poignant fantasies, a fear of death, you could be forgiven for thinking this sounds like a misery-fest. But far from it. Fittingly, ’The Sun And Her Scorch’ has an overriding warmth that comforts and nourishes all who bask in its glow.
There is a sense of fresh nostalgia that rests over much of the record, one where memories of being a teenage dirtbag are still close enough to be touched. Ghosts of the recent past drift and spark through ‘Roman Candle’, while ‘The Magician’ manages to be both beautifully sad and light of touch. That brightness shines throughout even the most melancholy moments, ones that take in the fear of oblivion that can creep silently into mind late at night. For a band who were only singing of becoming an adult a short while ago, the tick of a metaphorical clock is deafening.
As with their debut, the honesty on show from Katie Munshaw elevates and lifts everything it touches. Whether she is wracked with guilt at harsh words, or detailing the (literal) last moments of a relationship, no stone is left unturned. But at every turn she is matched by Dizzy’s ability to turn sadness into beauty, irresistible pop melodies transforming ‘The Sun And Her Scorch’ into something very special. Being a member of their heartbreak club never felt so good.