English pop-rock outfit The 1975 return with their fourth studio album Notes on a Conditional Form, the proposed second of a two-album era dubbed as “Music for Cars” with the first part being their 2018 critically lauded album, A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships.

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Notes On a Conditional Form is the groups most sonically sprawling and longest record to date clocking in at 80 minutes with 22 songs. While the runtime might seem daunting at first glance, that initial intimidation transcends from sudden inspiration to irritability as the majority of the album struggles with no editorial restraint, rhyme, or reason. Not to say this record is outright terrible as there are quite a few good highlights on Notes, but their impact is lessened by being a part of a tracklist that is so cumbersome, overloaded with half-baked songs, and directionless, derivative detours.

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In the first leg of the record, we’re greeted by two utterly pointless orchestral interludes that you’d assume are there with the intent of bridging sonically varying songs together or carry a motif throughout but they never reoccur afterward and ultimately dampen all momentum set up by the albums beginning two tracks. An anxiety-provoking, quiet call to arms against the masses, the ambient instrumental to "The 1975" with its glistening piano keys and sweet drone act as a platform for climate activist Greta Thunberg to recite her “Our House is on Fire” speech, swallowing you down into the bleak message of the environmental concerns she highlights. It’s very absorbing, be it long, opener, especially as her final declaration of “it’s time to rebel” sets off the post-hardcore pulse of "People", fire-lighting the listener into an inspired bout of instinctual anger. The driving punk riffs, primal drums, and Matt Healy’s vocal delivery mimic that of a woke, demented preacher, screaming a megaphone down a social media live feed at the millennial masses to actually “WAKE UP, WAKE UP, WAKE UP” to the evils and social injustices around them. All this structural linking and engaging setup is kneecapped by an ill-thought, displaced set of distractions that take the listener out of the record's momentum and that’s only at the front end of the album.

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Healy stated the album would be an ode to the British night-time of his youth “going to McDonald’s and listening to garage records in a haze in a Peugeot 206” and a lot of songs are set into the aesthetic mould of melodic garage pioneers like Buriel and The Streets. However, the garage experiments don’t amount to much except for two standout exceptions. "I Think There’s Something You Should Know" has the strongest vocal, most cogent chorus, hooky piano loops, and a captivatingly chill breakdown, while "Frail State of Mind"is a driving two-step garage beat punctuated with buried soft piano chords tells the difficulties in dealing with social anxiety, with the deteriorating mental state of Healy being propelled to a panicked climax with a plucking, staccato string section and vocal samples swirling into the ether. In contrast, others such as the demo-quality wash out of "Bagsy Not in Net", the arpeggiated nothingness of "Shiny Collarbone", and meandering six-minute "Having No Head" are throw away and could have easily been left on the cutting room floor because it would have made the highlights seem that much more fresh and novel.

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While 2000s garage seemed to be the primary blueprint for the group, a lot of American influences such as country, hip-hop, and gospel music pop up in the tracklist. "The Birthday Party" and "Jesus Christ 2005 God Bless America" presents the calmest moments on the record with their patiently strummed acoustic guitar and slow pace. Lyrically delving into temptation and religion, the surprising feature from indie songstress Phoebe Bridgers acts as a nice female vocal counterweight to the song's messages. "Tonight (I Wish I Was Your Boy)" pulls inspiration from College Dropout era Kanye with its pitch-shifted, chipmunked soul sampling, and "Nothing Revealed / Everything Denied" incorporates grand choir vocals to drive home the existential longing on the track. While all stylistically diversifying the record to potentially interesting degrees, the songwriting feels lacking and mismanaged with out of place features like an autotune rap verse, uninspired melody re-usage, and ugly mixing choices like the deeply equalized guitar on "Nothing Revealed". You’re not hearing anything grabbing or additionally worthwhile here. You merely pass these songs by whilst wondering how much longer you have to endure the album and feeling like you're in a purgatorial state of time never advancing.

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Occasionally, a great song comes out of the bands' genre-hopping exploits. "Me and You Together Song" revels in its Busted-esque noughties power-pop. It's a blisteringly sunny, sweet pop-rock song that’ll have you singing the song's refrain long after you’ve left it. It’s like the synthesized pop of their earlier works filtered through the most accessible shoegaze filter imaginable, impressively sustaining your attention with a fresh gleam throughout despite being structured around only one chord variation. "If You’re Too Shy (Let Me Know)" is pure new wave revivalism done very well with its punchy rhythms, beaming guitars, driving synths, and it wholly taps into the canon of previous ear-worm laden, synth-pop bangers the group has also had success with. "Yeah I Know" is a repetitious, minimal bop that’s surprisingly pleasant with its wobbly synthetic nature, and the country-rock swagger of "Roadkill" feels hefty with its punchy drums lunging the song forward with Healy at his funniest and earnest cataloging the bands' adventures touring the states.

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"Guys" is Healy’s loving ode to the rest of the band and is essentially a love song about friendship. The simplicity of the track touches on the tenderness felt by the band and it rounds out the album in a gently sentimental and concluding way. However, to get to this point, the last leg of the album is crammed with absolute snoozers like "What Should I Say" and "Playing On My Mind", testing your patience to see if you can simply make it to the end at this point of the album.

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You could argue the title could be indicative of the band’s mission statement for the record: It’s 22 strangely out of place songs that don’t have nearly any flow as they move through one another, but in a way, it seems like this was the intended vision to be a confusing perspective on Matty Healy’s mind and how he translates that into his music like a scattered obsession – small sticky notes placed around the house of his brain with little reminders of different interest lists and topics on them. Healy and co.’s collective head is too cluttered with ego and self-indulgent distraction for any clarity on wholly realizing their individual interests and knowing when to cut back on unnecessary filler which ultimately amounts to navel-gazing and purposelessly wasting time.

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You have to mentally wade through the sonic slop of half-baked songs and meandering instrumental passages to get to a reservoir of a constructed, considered song that refreshes your interest and your hope that the album picks up steam. On Notes, the steam quickly turns into a disquieting hiss as you are faced with having to endure more uncomplimentary, bland songs tacked onto each other again and again until you can drink fully at the next reservoir, repeatedly kidding yourself the same cycle won’t happen again.

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