I’ve been following Dayflower on and off since their first handful of releases drifted across the indie ether. I’ve played a couple of those early singles full of pastel guitars and softly shimmering melancholy on my DKFM Shoegaze Radio show. I’ve always enjoyed their take on the dreampop sound. With Comfort, their second full-length for Sunday Records, they’ve built something far wider and more absorbing than anything before. From what I’ve been hearing it’s a record that envelopes you in its world letting you disappear with the music, for a while at least.
Alex Clemence and David Dhonau remain at the centre of it all, still chasing that mix of melody and haze that’s always defined them, but here they take a bolder leap into texture and tone. They’ve built an entire world of sound, pop sensibility wrapped in ambient vibes, rhythm and shimmer. The production feels DIY in the most beautiful way, not lo-fi but human, full of fingerprints and warmth. It’s the sound of two artists completely lost in the process, surrounded by friends and collaborators, building layers until emotion replaces structure.
The band have this to say about their sound.

“We’ve always had this grand, idealised sound in mind that blends classic UK indie with American neo-psych production (What if Dave Fridmann produced the La’s ?!) It needed to feel huge but very floaty, with a ’60s pop groove and a wall-of-sound chorus.”
Let’s dive in and hear the sunshine for ourselves.
The record opens with ‘Young Sun’, a bright and fizzy invitation that glows like morning light through blinds. There’s a rush of synthetic colour and that familiar ache beneath it, guitars buzzing like electricity behind a skyline of synths. It’s the band’s reintroduction familiar sure but sharper, with a pulse that feels both digital and tender. The beats and guitar give it a sense of motion that makes it impossible to sit still. It’s radiant and restless in equal measure.
‘Crush’ slips in next and immediately the album breathes deeper. Mark Van Hoen’s influence gives it that silken, weightless quality that floats somewhere between Air and early Broadcast. The rhythm glides gently under Clemence’s voice while Martha Bean’s harmonies ghost in and out like memory. There’s an intimacy here, a quiet ache that comes from trying to hold onto something that’s already gone.
On ‘Secret Garden’, Dayflower pare things right back. It feels personal, like being let into a private reverie. You can sense them exploring new emotional corners here, stretching dream pop until it feels like chamber music whispered through gauze. There’s a memory of Gerry Love era Teenage Fanclub in the melody that pleases my ears no end.
It’s pure jangle pop next with ‘Heart Shaped Tambourines’. This one carries special weight for the duo as it’s one of their earliest songs, rebuilt completely for Comfort. You can feel the years layered into it, the tenderness of re-examining your own beginnings. The guitars chime with a clarity that only comes with time while the chorus blooms into a swirl of voices and reverb. It’s both nostalgic and new, the sound of a song growing up alongside its makers.
‘Satellite Underground’ lands with more propulsion, its pulse flickering like neon city lights from a train window. There’s a late-night melancholy to it, the sense of being awake while the rest of the world drifts off. The synth bass hums beneath fragments of melody that feel half-remembered, and the percussion keeps you anchored in motion. It’s a perfect example of the record’s wider cinematic reach.
Then comes ‘Twirlpro’, another reimagined piece from their back catalogue, but now it feels wholly reborn. The drums hit harder, the edges gleam brighter, and there’s a newfound confidence in how the band handle rhythm and restraint. It swirls with intent and comes together as a perfect slice of summery pop. You can sense the joy they found in rebuilding these old fragments, turning familiar shapes into something vital again. Would this be what The Association would sound like if they were making music today?
‘Muji’ arrives as a moment of serene contemplation, all weightlessness and quiet detail. It could easily play under one of those lonely, fluorescent nights in Lost in Translation. The explosion of sound midway that blooms across the speakers is joy to behold. The only parallel I can reach for is Stars. This could easily sit with some of their best stuff.
Like a calming burst of morning colour ‘Sunny 19’ breaks through. It’s lighter, brisker, more direct — almost a palette cleanser after the denser textures before it. There’s an understated joy in its simplicity, a reminder that Dayflower’s pop instincts are never far from the surface. Whilst the composition is minimal the impact certainly isn’t.
Then ‘Lazy’ drifts in, and the mood folds inward again. This is the record’s gentle sigh, a hazy afternoon slowed to half-speed. The drumming and guitar work shape the rhythm into something unhurried, almost drowsy. It captures that peculiar melancholy that arrives when the light begins to fade, when you start thinking about the day you’ve just lived through.
Finally, ‘Mockingbird’ brings everything together in a wash of texture and tone. The vibes throb softly beneath ghostly harmonies, building into something both delicate and immense. You can hear echoes of Low’s late-period beauty and the smoky pulse of Massive Attack, but it’s unmistakably Dayflower. The song unravels slowly, a quiet release after so much tension, and by the end it feels like you’ve reached some peaceful corner of their imagined world.
What’s remarkable about Comfort is how fluidly it moves between these moods. It’s neither pure shoegaze nor straight dream-pop; it exists somewhere between, constantly shifting like light through mist. The guitars no longer dominate the skyline, but their spirit lingers everywhere. Instead, the synths, strings, and voices create something far more expansive. Clemence and Dhonau’s long-held vision finally feels fully realised. Dayflower have always lived somewhere between introspection and pop sparkle, but Comfort feels like their most complete statement yet. It’s the kind of record that seems to know when you need it most; a quiet refuge built from light, sound, and care.
Comfort is out now via Sunday Records on vinyl and CD. Check it out over on the Dayflower Bandcamp Page.


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