Thought Bubble – Mostly True

There’s something magnetic about Thought Bubble’s corner of the UK. Hidden away in the Shropshire hills, they’ve quietly built a catalogue of curious sound world. Some sparse, others overwhelming, but always bold. With Mostly True, they’ve carved out their most confident statement yet. The trio of Chris Cordwell (synths), Nick Raybould (percussion), and Peter Gelf (vocals) return less than 18 months after Universe Zero, but the leap between the two albums feels seismic.

Where Universe Zero was about arrival, being Gelf’s first full run with the band and the beginning of their vocal era, Mostly True is the aftershock. It pushes deeper into narrative and noise. The textures are sharper. The compositions are stranger. And the whole thing feels alive in a way few electronic records manage.

Let’s dive in.

The record opens with menace. ‘It’s Best Not To Look At The Sun’ drops us into a dense fog of prog synths and a theatrical vocal performance that leans into that Peter Gabriel influence we first heard on the last album. As an opener it feels like being shoved into a lucid dream you didn’t ask to be part of. The percussion tugs against the synths, giving the song a kind of anxious propulsion. Lyrically, it veers into surreal territory, brushing up against themes of delusion and paranoia. Gelf leans fully into the character. There’s a sense that something has fractured and no one’s quite sure who’s responsible. A daring way to start, and it sets the tone beautifully.

‘Rattlepool’ is all about the rhythm. The electronics pull back ever so slightly and expose Raybould’s virtuoso percussion front and centre. Everything is off-kilter in the best way. Patterns loop and then collapse. New beats appear from nowhere. You can hear the joy in the performance. It’s chaotic but never messy, like watching dominoes fall in unexpected directions. The vocal appears like a ghost only. One of their most hypnotic tracks yet. It’s restless, alive, and unpredictable.

‘I’d Give Up All This’ offers a stark change of pace. This track feels heartbreakingly human. The vocals are raw, almost naked. There’s an understated melody running through it that sounds like it could unravel at any second. Unlike earlier Thought Bubble records, where vocals were used sparingly and often submerged in effects, here Gelf is pushed forward. His delivery has weight. You believe every word. This is the emotional centre of the album and maybe its most accessible track too. It carries a weight, not because of its volume, but because of how direct it feels.

At first, ‘Three Apples’ feels gentle. You think you’re in for a reflective moment, but the song quickly shifts into darker territory. Inspired by the reality of drone warfare, the subject matter is stark. It circles the idea of destruction from a distance. It doesn’t show violence merely hints at its aftermath. The tension builds through minor key synth drones and subtle dissonance. It’s unsettling without tipping into melodrama. What hits hardest is how little resolution there is. The track ends abruptly, mirroring the idea that these acts of violence occur far away and vanish just as quickly from public consciousness.

Next up it’s ‘Clicks, Rumbles And Wordless Shouts’ and the title says everything. The band lean into the physicality of sound, every pop, snap, and crackle feels intentional. Gelf delivers fragmented vocal lines that teeter on spoken word. The result is closer to sound collage than traditional songwriting. The experience feels like moving through a crumbling structure, the floorboards giving slightly underfoot. Nothing repeats. Every sound feels like it might vanish the moment you notice it. Thought Bubble are masters at this, using texture to convey meaning. It’s unlike anything else on the record.

‘Cut Out Within’ next opens like a slow exhale. You feel suspended, floating through a thick mist of synth tones. It’s more restrained, but there’s tension hiding underneath. The sounds stretch and ripple. Everything feels slowed down, like it’s being viewed underwater. You’re not led anywhere, just left to drift. There’s a calmness sure, but it’s not comforting. More like the eye of a storm. The arrangement grows slowly, pads swell, beats emerge, layers unfold gradually. What makes it work is the restraint. Thought Bubble avoid the temptation to build to a predictable peak. Instead, they let the groove simmer, threatening to boil over but never quite doing so. Gelf’s voice is used more as an instrument here, processed and layered until it sounds like it’s floating in from another room.

Closing the album is ‘Anna’, a track that feels like it’s always existed. It’s deceptively simple. A drifting synth progression, a steady rhythm, a repeated vocal motif but it leaves a heavy impression. There’s melancholy here, but not sadness. More like reflection. The kind you get after something ends and you don’t yet know what to do next. It’s beautifully ambiguous. The beauty of this song is in its subtlety. Nothing forces your attention, but by the end you realise you’ve been completely pulled in. It feels like the part of the film where the credits roll quietly and you’re not ready to leave the cinema. No big finale. No explosion of noise. Just the gentle sound of Thought Bubble walking out the room.

Thought Bubble aren’t interested in trends. They don’t care about fitting into a scene. With Mostly True, they’ve proven again that they’re making music on their own terms, with total conviction. The addition of Gelf last year was a full pivot. They’ve embraced storytelling, confrontation, abstraction, and vulnerability in equal measure. This is a deep plunge into a very particular kind of sound world. Not dream pop. Not ambient. Not post-rock. Something else entirely. Something hard to name. This album will challenge you as a listener. It’s weird, uncompromising and patient. For those who do tune in, there’s so much to explore. Every track invites you back in, daring you to notice something you missed the first time. My final thought, do what I did, let go and fall into the world they’ve built.

Mostly True is available on vinyl, CD, cassette or digital via Moolakii Club Audio Interface. Make sure and give Thought Bubble a follow over on Bandcamp.

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