Zaba by Glass Animals
At first glance, Zaba seems like the kind of album you’d play in a trendy lounge bar, one with lots of ferns and people who think wearing bucket hats indoors is revolutionary. It’s humid, lush, and brimming with trippy sounds—half rainforest, half synth-driven fever dream. But if you listen too long, you might start wondering if you’ve been walking through the same jungle loop for hours. Spoiler: you have.
Glass Animals’ debut album (Zaba, 2014) is an eclectic mash-up of psychedelic indie, electronica, and alt-pop, all wrapped in the sonic equivalent of a tropical mist. Frontman Dave Bayley, whose neuroscience background perhaps explains the album’s precise layering of sounds, leads you through a dense, atmospheric soundscape that’s equal parts eerie and intriguing. It’s as though someone spiked Alt-J’s drink with jungle beats and obscure samples, leaving them to stumble into a rainforest full of synthetic bird calls and soft beats.
If there’s one thing to praise about Zaba, it’s the meticulous attention to detail. The production, spearheaded by Paul Epworth (of Adele and Florence + the Machine fame), is rich and textured. The songs are stacked with layers of electronic blips, watery synths, and haunting vocals that seem to drift through the trees like ghostly whispers. Tracks like “Gooey” and “Black Mambo” mix squishy beats with minimalist melodies, creating an oddly satisfying sonic playground. But after a while, the hypnotic rhythms and echoey atmospherics start to feel a bit too much like white noise—you’re not quite sure if you’re meant to vibe with it or meditate on it. There’s a thin line between “immersive” and “samey,” and Zaba strolls right on it.
Bayley’s lyrics are almost cryptically abstract, often leaning into playful weirdness (“peanut butter vibes” from “Gooey,” anyone?). But beyond the quirky one-liners, there’s not much substance. The words feel like part of the ambient jungle rather than the central message. Zaba is more about mood than meaning, and that’s fine—until it starts to feel like there’s no real point behind the playful mysticism. It’s an album you enjoy while spacing out, but don’t expect to walk away pondering life’s deep questions.
“Gooey,” with its gooey (sorry) bassline and sensual vibe, remains the album’s crowning achievement. It’s effortlessly catchy without trying too hard, and the vocal delivery feels like a whispered secret. “Pools” is another standout, with its upbeat tribal beat providing some much-needed energy to an otherwise chilled-out tracklist. However, songs like “Walla Walla” and “JDNT” can start to blur into each other, turning the album’s midsection into a repetitive lull.
This is where Zaba can get stuck in the mud. While it’s a cohesive sonic experience—there’s no doubting that all the tracks belong to the same humid, hallucinogenic world—it sometimes feels too cohesive. There’s a sameness to the album’s pace and mood that can leave you craving a little more variation. It’s like floating down a lazy river: pleasant at first, but after a while, you’re just hoping for a waterfall to shake things up.
For all its beauty, Zaba can feel distant. It’s an album that’s impressive in its technical construction but lacks emotional resonance. There’s an undeniable coolness to the whole experience, but like that artsy friend who’s too aloof to ever really open up, it can leave you feeling more intrigued than moved. You’ll remember the quirky production, but not necessarily the emotions it stirred.
Zaba will resonate most with fans of experimental indie pop, particularly those who enjoy getting lost in a trippy, immersive soundscape. If you loved the early works of Alt-J or are a fan of the more ethereal side of electronica, this might be your thing. But if you’re looking for hooks, straightforward lyrics, or emotional depth, this jungle may not be for you.
Zaba is a fascinating debut that showcases Glass Animals’ knack for sonic craftsmanship, even if it gets a bit lost in its own heady world. It’s an album you’ll either find delightfully weird or frustratingly aimless, depending on your tolerance for experimental soundscapes that prioritize texture over substance. Should you add it to your playlist? Sure, but maybe keep it as background music for your next Pinterest-inspired plant party.
