AtanariaNearly thirty years into their career, Garbage return with Let All That We Imagine Be the Light, their eighth studio album and a continuation of the path they’ve walked for decades: sleek, impeccably produced alt-rock laced with electronics, darkness, and the ever-commanding voice of Shirley Manson. But where 2021’s No Gods No Masters proved they could still hit hard with sharp songwriting and political bite, this new record feels more tentative — a band searching for a spark rather than striking new fires.
As always, the production is pristine. Butch Vig, Duke Erickson, and Steve Marker remain masters of their craft, layering guitars and synths into dense, polished textures that avoid the pitfalls of overcompression plaguing so much modern rock. Tracks like “R U Happy Now” throb with modern energy, while “Chinese Fire Hose” finds the band channeling their playful vulgarity with a slap bass groove and Manson’s arch delivery: “Wait a minute, wait a fucking minute.” It’s a reminder that Garbage’s knack for swaggering, hook-filled alt-rock is still intact when the pieces align.
Manson remains the group’s greatest asset, her voice equal parts seductive and menacing. She inhabits the songs with conviction, even when the material around her sometimes falters. Lyrically, the album swings between sharp political commentary (“Make no mistake, friend, they hate your women / They love your children and they love their guns”) and vaguer, underdeveloped sketches. On songs like “There’s No Future in Optimism,” the compelling premise of an apocalyptic rave loses momentum, relying too heavily on repetitive choruses that don’t fully deliver on their potential.
The record’s middle stretch — including “Radical” and “Love to Give” — drifts into a sameness that has dogged some of the band’s mid-period work (Bleed Like Me, Not Your Kind of People). Progressions and lyrical ideas feel half-formed, gesturing toward emotional or political weight without fully realizing either. Yet, moments like the plaintive “The Day That I Met God” recall the vulnerable beauty of Version 2.0’s “You Look So Fine,” and the twangy “Get Out My Face AKA Bad Kitty” brings back the sass and edge that longtime fans cherish.
At this stage in Garbage’s career, the bar isn’t whether they can revolutionize their sound, but whether they can still summon the alchemy that made their earlier work resonate. Let All That We Imagine Be the Light doesn’t reach the heights of their best albums, but it offers enough flashes of their signature blend of venom, glamour, and impeccable production to satisfy their devoted cult. It’s not a reinvention — but it’s enough, for now.
