The cover of Sleepwalking is a portrait of Jonathan Bree facing the camera square on, his features obscured by a faceless mask.
It's a strangely unsettling image and can be considered your first cue that on this, his third solo record, his music, and mindset have taken a turn towards the sinister. The bright and cartoony bubblegum pop of his early work in The Brunettes now well and truly popped.
As the title suggests, many of the songs on this ominous collection of 60s pop are dark and restless. They exist in an unnerving state of unease. However, the songs, while adorned in strangeness, are really quite beautiful. Nevertheless, something feels not quite right. They're a little off. A little peculiar. Always.
While he walks a darker path, it's not entirely unfamiliar ground. Bree's familiar 60s touchpoints are all here, acting as an occasional nightlight. His fascination with the era remaining a core part of his artistry and identity. Only, this time around, his songs sound like they could - or should - soundtrack a period-appropriate French new-wave thriller or European psychological horror.
