Heartbreak in hi-fi: Lennox turns sun-bleached psych-pop into a slow, stunning collapse.

On Sinister Grift, Noah Lennox – aka Panda Bear – strips back the filters, sonic smokescreens, and beachside reverb to deliver what might be his most emotionally raw record to date. It’s hard not to read it as a breakup album, even if Lennox resists the label. The aftermath of his separation from longtime partner Fernanda Pereira seeps into the lyrics, even when the melodies shimmer with summery nostalgia. Early tracks like Praise and Ends Meet glow with bright harmonies and tropical rhythms, calling back to Person Pitch’s blissful haze but swapping its joyful disorientation for bittersweet clarity. Ferry Lady and Anywhere But Here land the gut punches, pairing Lennox’s unvarnished vocals with intimate, aching lines about love lost and futures frayed. The inclusion of his daughter’s voice adds a layer of vulnerability that’s difficult to shake.

Midway through, Sinister Grift pivots. The tempo slows, and the air begins to thin. Venom’s In and Left in the Cold drift into haunted, melancholic territory, setting the stage for Elegy for Noah Lou — a six-minute descent into fragile psyche-folk, all white noise flickers and ghost-chord guitars. It’s as if the bottom falls out of the record entirely, evoking the emotional wreckage of Syd Barrett or Skip Spence.

The finale, Defense, offers a flicker of hope without tying things up too neatly. Lennox repeats “Here I come” like a mantra, backed by a buried but brilliant guitar solo from Cindy Lee. Whether that line signals healing or another spin on the emotional carousel is left unresolved. This isn’t an easy listen from start to finish, but Sinister Grift is all the more powerful for it. Lennox has made a record that dares to dissolve – bright beginnings giving way to a slow, honest unraveling. It’s beautiful, bruised, and hard to forget.