Automatic – Is It Now?

I was an instant convert to the sound of Automatic when I stumbled across their 2019 debut album Signal. It had the vibe of a band with one foot in the future and the other stuck in a cracked piece of analogue tape. They came together in Los Angeles nine years ago, just three friends with instruments they were still figuring out how to play. That bare bones start gave them a raw honesty, but over the years they’ve carved a sharper edge. By the time of their sophomore release Excess in 2022, they had already built a reputation for minimalist post punk grooves that could soundtrack either a basement dance or a protest march. In the years since, the three members have scattered into new routines: Izzy Glaudini rescuing stray cats and obsessing over production tricks, Halle Saxon trading bad habits for botany classes, and Lola Dompé disappearing into the countryside with her horses. Life pulled them in different directions, yet Is It Now? finds them locked in like never before.

Glaudini was quite clear on what the band had to achieve.

That’s the energy driving this third record so with that knowledge lets dive in.

The needle drops with ‘Black Box’, and it feels like being transported to a Haitian disco. The drums and bass hold down the groove while synth stabs and swirls float across the speakers. It’s only when the vocals come in that things pare back to give space to the smoke in Glaudini’s delivery. Her voice feels detached yet intimate whispering an uncomfortable truth across a crowded room. The bass and drums keep tugging at your body, urging movement, while the synths spark and scatter like broken neon. This track plays with pleasure and paranoia, the sense that you’re dancing in a place that might not be safe. You find yourself nodding along, caught between groove and suspicion, already primed for the world Automatic are about to unfold.

That rolls into ‘mq9’, which works like a Trojan horse. At first you’re carried along by the groove, bobbing bass, and those stabbing synth bursts. Then the realisation hits: it’s mimicking the sound of drone warfare. The track keeps you moving while planting a knot in your stomach. It’s clever, but it’s also sinister. You catch yourself dancing, shoulders loose, and then you remember what the title means. That’s when the unease sets in. The song makes complicity feel physical. Your body obeys the beat while your mind wrestles with the horror underneath. Automatic leave you stuck in that space, uncomfortable but still moving.

‘Mercury’ arrives like a trickster. Trip hop tempo, restless beat, and a cheeky menace that makes you want to lean in closer. The synth work is sublime. You can feel the results of Izzy’s studio obsession here. Vocals slide in like smoke, half-spoken, half-sung, their coolness masking something volatile beneath. There’s a playfulness in the way it builds and unravels, teasing you with moments of clarity before plunging back into murk. You catch fragments of melody, flashes of groove, but nothing settles for long. By the time the track winds down, you’re not sure if you’ve been seduced, unsettled, or both.

The mood lightens with ‘Lazy’, a chilled groove with an edge. There is a lightness to the verses then in the instrumental breaks in between, shadows creep in. The synth stabs have eerie overtones that pull the rug out from under you. The bass is warm and rounded, almost cosy, yet those synth stabs cut through like distant alarms. You think you’re settling into the most relaxed moment on the record, only for Automatic to twist the groove just enough to remind you the calm is temporary.

Then ‘Country Song’ is anything but. This ain’t no Nashville anthem, no siree. If anything, this track would feel at home on stage with Gary Numan. The bass locks into a cold, metallic throb while synths bend into strange, buzzing shapes. There’s nothing pastoral here, only a synthetic horizon that feels eerie and electric. Dompé’s drumming keeps it rigid, a tight frame that gives the whole thing a steely march. Vocals float above like signals from another planet, cool and detached, echoing through a chrome-tinted space. The result is hypnotic, almost clinical, but with a sly grin underneath. You can imagine the band having fun with this one, smirking as they twist the title into something alien.

The centrepiece comes with the title track, ‘Is It Now?’. It’s a frantic paced, sharp edged sonic assault. The bass is the star here dancing around the two notes of the song. The smooth synth pads providing that luscious contrast that makes this an Automatic classic. This song feels like a rush of energy that is both chaotic and tightly controlled. Worthy of the title track.

‘Don’t Wanna Dance’ is cheeky by name but impossible to resist. The pace is slowed right down, a hazy low-tempo drift where space is as important as sound. The bass pulses gently, almost lazy, while the drums flicker in and out with a stripped-back restraint. Synths hang in the air like distant echoes, soft and minimal, creating an atmosphere that feels half-dreamt. It’s sly, understated, and quietly hypnotic, the kind of track that has you swaying long after it’s finished.

Then comes ‘Smog Summer’. Disco shimmer at first glance, but this one holds a fire warning. Inspired by L.A.’s endless fight with climate disaster, it anchors its urgency to a bassline that won’t quit. You can hear Halle’s botany obsession sneaking into the lyrics, trying to coax hope from the ash. It makes you want to dance and panic at the same time.

‘The Prize’ drags the conversation into darker waters. Oil, politics, and power wrapped in a rhythm that lurches like a heavy engine. This is the record’s most confrontational moment. There’s an almost physical sense of tension here, a confrontation that doesn’t let you escape. You feel the anger in the grooves, the frustration in the pauses between notes. It’s the track that refuses to let you dance, demanding attention and reflection, leaving a trace of unease that lingers long after the final chord.

By the time ‘PlayBoi’ hits, there’s a swagger in the air. It’s all cheek, with Lola’s beat bouncing like a rubber ball. There’s a a definite parallel to the production work on the Nice as Fuck album here. Given they share a producer in Loren Humphrey it’s no wonder. The drums snap with a loose, playful energy and Halle’s bassline keeps it tight but playful, circling around the rhythm. Synths flicker in the gaps, adding sly flourishes that feel both stylish and slightly absurd. You can almost hear the band grinning as they play it out.

Closer ‘Terminal’ turns almost motorik. Its unrelenting and unapologetic in its intensity. The beat locks in and refuses to budge, a steady thrum that feels like being carried down a highway with no exits. Halle’s bass is relentless, circling a single idea until it becomes hypnotic. This is a finale that trades euphoria for endurance. By the time it winds down, you’re left with the sensation of being propelled forward long after the music stops, still caught in its endless motion.

Is It Now? is a record that toys with your senses as much as it moves your body. From the first pulse of ‘Black Box’ you’re pulled into a world where grooves feel irresistible but always edged with unease. The band lure you into motion, only to undercut the pleasure with paranoia, satire, or stark commentary. Automatic thrive on contradictions like joy and dread, groove and grit, satire and sincerity. The experience isn’t about escaping the world outside but moving through it with sharper eyes and restless feet. You dance, you question, you sweat, you think. That’s the genius of this record. Is it now? With Automatic, it always is.

Is It Now? is out now via Stones Throw Records. Follow the band on the Automatic Bandcamp page.

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