Review

The Wombats have never been ones to shy away from evolution, and Oh The Ocean sees them diving headfirst into deeper, more atmospheric waters. While their signature knack for infectious hooks and sharp-witted lyricism remains intact, this album marks a shift—less of the frenetic indie-disco energy of old, more of a measured, introspective glide across new sonic landscapes. From the outset, there’s a sense of expansiveness to the record. The production is lush, layered, and at times cinematic, with shimmering synths and reverb-soaked guitars carrying the album’s thematic weight. Lyrically, Oh The Ocean feels like a meditation on movement—both physical and emotional. Frontman Matthew Murphy’s words still carry that familiar self-deprecating charm, but here, they’re laced with a deeper, almost wistful introspection. The ocean itself becomes a recurring motif—sometimes a symbol of escape, sometimes one of isolation, always vast and unknowable. That’s not to say The Wombats have abandoned their indie roots entirely. Tracks like “Currents and Crosswinds” and “Saltwater Serenade” still pack a punch, brimming with the kind of soaring choruses that have defined their career. But there’s a newfound patience in the songwriting, a willingness to let moments breathe. The result is an album that washes over the listener, ebbing and flowing with a maturity that shows just how far the band has come. In a time when many of their early 2000s contemporaries are either fading into nostalgia or struggling to reinvent themselves, The Wombats have managed to find that elusive balance—progressing without losing their essence. *Oh The Ocean* is an assured, reflective, and quietly ambitious record that proves The Wombats are still riding the waves rather than being swept away by them.

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