Across what is now four albums, Australian singer-songwriter Carla dal Forno has moved with an eerily light gait across spartan post-punk landscapes with the occasional spot of sunlight from dub or indie-pop. She has said her latest, Confession, is about “a friendship that became emotionally charged in an unexpected way”, a drama that plays out in a series of riveting scenes. Powered by a New Order-worthy bass line, opener Going Out confesses her shame as a romantic obsession hardens into brute determination; Dal Forno’s tone of voice is unrepentantly chilling as she makes up her mind to acquire her target.
That obsession continues on the title track, though it’s as if Dal Forno tries to brush off how deep it goes by using a bright, gently skanking rhythm (a style familiar to listeners of 2022’s Come Around). The coolly funky Nighttime crackles with erotic potential, but other songs contain hurt and regret – though again, it’s not always mirrored by the music, which takes in naive twee-pop melodies, peppy coldwave and more. All of her conflicted feelings rattle around the superb Under the Covers, about the inexorability of not just attraction, but also the stasis that can set in to a relationship.
Amid eight songs, the four instrumentals here are much less engaging, even pointless. But they serve to demonstrate the subtle strength of Dal Forno’s storytelling and singing. Careless, selfish, even cruel, she is also desperate, uncertain and bends towards tenderness – and uses her vocal style to wrongfoot the listener, perhaps even herself, as to how she really feels. It’s rich, sympathetic self-portrait in song.