REVIEW: Bedolina – ‘Sun and Flamingos’

There’s a slow-burning electricity humming through Bedolina’s latest full-length ‘Sun and Flamingos’, a record that feels like an immersive world built on unease, poeticism, and flickering moments of hope. Across eleven immersive tracks, the band leans into murky atmospheres and philosophical undertones, offering meditations on restlessness, resilience, and the strange beauty of not having the answers.

From the jump, the instrumentation is layered and cinematic, with guitars that chime and drums that pulse throughout. There’s a fluid interplay between grandeur and intimacy, where even the quietest moments feel like they’re holding something back.

Frontman Ken Gould delivers each line like a sermon from the edge of the world. His voice lends gravity to lyrics that wander through surreal backdrops, half-lit rooms, and internal monologues dressed as myths. It’s a vocal style that recalls the weight of classic art-rock storytelling while maintaining a distinctly modern sharpness.

Musically, the album owes a quiet debt to bands like The National and Arcade Fire, but it never sounds like mimicry. Instead, Bedolina weave those influences through their own fabric, sometimes stretching them into sprawling, synth-laced epics, other times stripping them down into raw, bone-dry confessionals. There are touches of post-punk chill, dream-pop shimmer, and prog-influenced build-ups, all fused with surprising cohesion.

‘Sun and Flamingos’ is a record built for repeat listens. It doesn’t shout for attention; it lures you in. And once you’re there, it stays with you, a low glow flickering in the corners of your mind long after the final note fades.

This is Bedolina reinforcing their status in the indie landscape. Their latest work is fearless in its stillness, bold in its emotional ambiguity, and devastatingly effective in how it wraps its existential weight in melody and mood.

Bedolina’s ‘Sun and Flamingos’ is out on the 30th May.