Slow Summits is an unhurried, understated masterpiece that should make fans of the band, and of music in general, glad that the Pastels have not only stuck with it for so long, but grown into the kind of group that could release something this warm and beautiful.
Nothing unduly groundbreaking here, yet at the same time always brutally refreshing.
Like all Pastels albums, Slow Summits feels like the work of a tightly knit gang of outcasts.
At nine songs it is a slight but irrefutably charming record, full of deconstructed pop to absolutely dote on, as has always been their speciality.
Nitpicking aside, it's a gratifying collection of sunny, gentle indie pop.
In offering something which even they concede may prove genuinely new to their fan base, The Pastels have played the odds and come out on top.
Throughout Slow Summits beauty and brightness are paired with someone’s absence. There’s a perpetual disappointment held not far from the surface, but they sound like they’ve come to certain terms with it.
While Slow Summits might not set your pulse racing it’s a fantastic example of a band throwing themselves into making a record as lush and pretty as they possibly can.
On Slow Summits, The Pastels sound not like a long-overlooked cult band making one last grasp at fame, but like a respectable contemporary in an indie-rock genre they once pioneered.
They still can write a painfully sweet melody, but what’s the point if there’s no clear sense of something at stake to offer.
With plucky string arrangements, an emotive horn section, and vocals that simultaneously brood and breathe life, Slow Summits’ beautiful sound borders on enlightening.
#78 | / | Rough Trade |