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**DIIV - Is The Is Are**
★★★★☆

When Zachary Cole Smith emerged from the wreckage of his previous band Beach Fossils in 2011, few could have predicted the tumultuous journey that would lead to DIIV's second album. The Brooklyn quartet's debut, *Oshin*, had been a gossamer-light triumph of dreampop perfection, all shimmering guitars and narcotic melodies that seemed to float on air. But the three years between albums proved to be a descent into darkness that would fundamentally reshape the band's sound and vision.

Smith's well-documented struggles with heroin addiction cast a long shadow over *Is The Is Are*, transforming what might have been a straightforward follow-up into something far more complex and emotionally fraught. The album's extended gestation period – marked by multiple recording sessions, lineup changes, and Smith's eventual stint in rehab – resulted in a sprawling 17-track opus that feels less like a conventional album than a musical diary of addiction, recovery, and the messy process of putting one's life back together.

Musically, DIIV have retained their core DNA while allowing their palette to darken considerably. The band's signature sound – that intoxicating blend of shoegaze shimmer, krautrock repetition, and indie pop sensibility – remains intact, but it's now filtered through a lens of hard-won experience. Where *Oshin* felt weightless, *Is The Is Are* is anchored by gravity, its 53-minute runtime allowing space for both transcendent beauty and uncomfortable introspection.

The album's opening salvo, "Out of Mind," immediately signals this shift in tone. Built around a hypnotic bassline and Smith's most vulnerable vocal performance to date, it's a mission statement that finds the band embracing both their melodic gifts and their newfound emotional complexity. The song's refrain of "I was out of my mind" serves as both confession and exorcism, setting the stage for the journey ahead.

Elsewhere, "Dopamine" stands as perhaps the album's most devastating moment – a seven-minute meditation on addiction that manages to be both beautiful and deeply unsettling. Smith's vocals float over a bed of reverb-drenched guitars, creating a sonic representation of the chemical highs and crushing lows he's singing about. It's uncomfortable listening, but necessarily so.

The album's more conventional moments prove equally compelling. "Bent (Roi's Song)" showcases the band's ability to craft perfect dreampop confections, while "Mire (Grant's Song)" builds from a whispered beginning to a cathartic crescendo that recalls the best of early Slowdive. These tracks, dedicated to band members, suggest a group that has learned to find strength in collaboration rather than self-destruction.

Not everything here works perfectly – at 17 tracks, the album occasionally feels indulgent, and some of the quieter interludes disrupt the flow rather than enhance it. But these minor quibbles pale beside the album's considerable achievements. This is a band that has stared into the abyss and returned with songs that transform personal darkness into universal beauty.

The production, handled by the band alongside Sonny Diperri, strikes the perfect balance between clarity and atmosphere. Every guitar line exists in its own reverb-soaked universe, yet the mix never becomes muddy or indistinct. Smith's vocals, always the band's secret weapon, are presented with a new intimacy that makes even his most abstract lyrics feel deeply personal.

In the years since its release, *Is The Is Are* has slowly revealed itself as a minor masterpiece of modern shoegaze. While it lacks the immediate impact of its predecessor, its rewards are deeper and more lasting. The album stands as proof that sometimes the most beautiful art emerges from the darkest places, and that redemption – both personal and artistic – is always possible.

DIIV have created something rare here: an album about addiction that never glamorizes its subject matter, a shoegaze record that never disappears into its own atmosphere, and a deeply personal statement that somehow feels universal. It's messy, beautiful, and utterly human – much like recovery itself.