I first stepped into Baleen’s world through their self-titled EP. That record arrived with a quiet confidence and a sense of curiosity that floored me and had me skipping the needle back to the start again and again. It felt like a band thinking beyond the immediate moment, already shaping a sound with space, patience and emotional intent. There was depth there, even in its brevity. So, when I Dream I’m Left Behind landed, I came to it genuinely excited. Whilst my expectations were high, somehow, they still undersold what this album achieves.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. So, for those who missed my EP review Baleen are based in Northampton, Massachusetts and are Mike Anctil handles drums, Katy Beyer vocals, Gregg Bothwell guitars, vocals and synth, with Austin Hatch on bass. Bothwell writes the songs and takes on production duties alongside Andrew Oedel. That sense of continuity matters. You can hear a band comfortable with each other and confident enough to let songs find their own way.
The band have this to say on what to expect from the album.
“I Dream I’m Left Behind is an album about the grey areas between extremes: between medicine and poison; between joy and sadness; between human connection and the desire to be alone. It’s an album that explores the delirious joys and complex challenges of domestic life, and all the ways that human beings cope with the difficulties of being alive.”
Let’s drop the needle and explore those grey areas.
‘Moonlight on the Clock’ opens the album with a sense of restraint that immediately signals growth. The guitars are sumptuous and beckon us in with their warmth with a counter melody that’s as catchy as the vocal. The gentle tones are periodically punctuated by heavy fuzz passages that explode across the song like fireworks. This is quite the opener. This is accomplished songwriting and has us hooked immediately.
Moving forward with momentum next is ‘Floating Just a Little Bit’. The balance between quiet reflection and soaring intensity is beautifully judged here, with the chorus landing hard because of how carefully the angular verses are shaped. The solitary voice of the verse turns into full group singing for the choruses. And boy do they hit you right in the feels.
‘Champagne Sugar’ introduces a more rhythmic guitar approach that immediately stands out. The playing here feels deliberate and precise, almost conversational. Lyrically it carries a sense of reflection and closeness, capturing those fleeting moments at the edge of change when friendships feel both permanent and fragile. It’s another high-quality song; man, this is exceptional stuff.
‘In the Morning’ next focuses right on our heartstrings. They seem to have found a way to make us feel with a chord change, a change in dynamic. It’s uncanny. See the entry point into the choruses here and the slow build over its length that absolutely floors you. The guitar solo midway through bringing to mind American Football is simply stunning.
There’s a brief but effective shift in pace next with ‘Burnt Hills’. An instrumental tone poem it serves as a palette cleanser as we move into the second half of the album.
‘Spirit Divides’ leans into darker territory. The guitars grow heavier, the atmosphere thicker, and the song slowly escalates toward a powerful release. The tension feels internal rather than dramatic, rooted in anxiety and dissociation rather than societal reasons. There’s a definite nod to the Philly sound of Nothing or Whirr for sure but with a little more definition and drive.
‘Anatomy of a Fall’ brings a sense of reflection back into focus. The interplay between guitars and vocals feels especially strong here, with melodies that linger without overstating themselves. They once again lean into the epic with a massive wall of sound being employed to great effect. The guitar swell after the choruses is just incredible.
Baleen go all out with a ‘Endless Blue Sky’ which is all velocity and vibes. Everyone is heads down and thrashing their instruments, fully immersed in their performances. The sheer energy is incredible, charged with excitement. I can imagine this one being a live favourite.
‘Winedark’ is the album’s emotional centrepiece. At over eight minutes, it unfolds slowly and confidently, drawing from post rock patience and shoegaze density in equal measure. The repetition becomes hypnotic, the guitars washing over you as the song gradually deepens. It’s immersive without losing focus and as the song reveals its many facets it both excites and surprises you throughout its runtime. This is a real masterclass.
‘Madmen and Addicts’ closes the album with a sense of quiet resolve. Rather than reaching for a grand finale, Baleen choose reflection and restraint. It feels like a farewell rather than the finality of a goodbye. A slow exhale after the emotional journey has come to an end.
Where the EP hinted at what Baleen could become, I Dream I’m Left Behind commits fully. The sound is more nuanced and the compositions more layered. Shoegaze, indie rock, post rock, Midwest emo and ambient textures sit side by side without friction. Nothing feels forced together. Instead, these songs live in the grey spaces between extremes, emotionally and sonically. It is an album about domestic life, anxiety, connection and retreat, about learning how to sit with contradictions rather than resolve them.
I Dream I’m Left Behind feels like a band fully stepping into their own. It takes the promise of the EP and expands it with confidence, patience and emotional clarity. These songs do not rush you. They sit with you. They trust you to listen, to feel, and to return. When I Dream I’m Left Behind closes, it feels like waking from a dream you were not ready to leave, carrying its weight quietly with you into the day.
I Dream I’m Left Behind is out now on vinyl via Strange Library Records. You can check it out over on the Baleen Bandcamp page.
You can follow Baleen on social media here
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The title I Dream I’m Left Behind already sets a tone of quiet dislocation, and if the review is any indication, Baleen leans into that feeling without ever letting it tip into melodrama. This is music that seems to exist in the half-light between wakefulness and something else – layers of processed guitar, distant percussion that sounds like rain on metal, vocals that drift rather than declare. It’s the kind of record that rewards low volume and late hours, when the edges soften and the spaces start to speak.
What stands out is the restraint in the production. No overwrought maximalism; instead, every element feels placed with intention – a single reverb tail allowed to decay fully, a synth pad that barely rises above breath, moments where the mix drops to near-silence and then rebuilds without fanfare. That patience is rare in 2026, when so much music competes by stacking more. Baleen seems content to let absence do the emotional work, and it pays off: the sense of being “left behind” isn’t shouted; it’s felt in the gaps.
The review’s mention of dream-logic sequencing makes sense too – tracks that bleed into each other, recurring motifs that return altered, like fragments of the same memory resurfacing. It’s not ambient in the passive sense; there’s too much tension for that. More like a slow-motion anxiety dream scored for guitar and tape loops.
This feels like one of those albums that will find its audience gradually – the people who need it will keep returning to it, not because it’s immediate, but because it meets them in a specific kind of solitude. Solid, considered write-up. It’s made me add Baleen to the queue for a proper dark-room listen. Thanks for surfacing it.
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