by Esin Nisan Yildirim (@esinnisann)
L.A.-based trio Automatic’s third album, Is It Now?, was released almost a year ago on Stones Throw Records with production by Loren Humphrey, known for his work with Cameron Winter, Nice As Fuck, and Arctic Monkeys. It is one of those albums that sounds — almost — familiar, but not in a boring or repetitive way. It greets you with a familiar groove while capturing the feeling of being on an uncertain, exciting, and unsettling road trip. Whatever the songs have to say — their messages, yearnings, opinions, politics — the groove remains the siren song, eventually luring your ship toward their shore. What’s addictive is how, throughout this groovy journey, they manage to keep things minimal and clear while the tracks still somehow get under your skin. It’s possible to hear the past and the future simultaneously, creating an atmosphere that feels like a sci-fi movie. It creates a sense of nostalgia, but nostalgia has its limits — time is confusing, after all. And so the question remains: is it now?
Well, here we are, lured into this vague journey with Automatic. But maybe it wouldn’t be completely fair to put it that way. This road trip feels more like a search for meaning somewhere beyond here, beyond now — as if the answer to the question “Is It Now?” might be found somewhere along the way. Questions are nice, but so is being entertained. Here’s an album that manages to give you both.
“Black Box” starts things off energetically - clipped synth stabs, a bass line that walks, and drums that immediately pull you in - followed by the dance-driven “Mercury” and “Country Song.” It feels like we’ve stopped somewhere for a break, with the lyrics telling us, “You have now reached your — reached your destination.” But have we really? It’s probably never that easy. “Is It Now?” is the breaking point of the narrative. It’s more serious now. It’s the moment when the realization hits: oh, wait, it’s not all fun after all. But they don’t take the fun away either. This track, in particular, comes as close as the album gets to dancing to the horrors of the world. They don’t spell everything out or overwhelm the listener; instead, they offer glimpses of what’s disturbing, all carried by a cool bass line. Everything is bearable with a cool bass line, and they know it.
“The Prize” marks another turning point in the album’s narrative and feels almost cinematic. It’s like a scene change rather than a song. Sonically, it’s more restrained, more focused — the drums pull back, while an ’80s feel settles in, carried by a bass line that gives off New Order vibes. More importantly, it’s the last bump on the road before we arrive at “Terminal.” It’s like being stuck in a tunnel, wondering if there’s a way out, but more importantly, if you even want to get out. There’s a sense of unfinished business just before the resolution.
Whatever the themes might be, the album never creates a sense of urgency or anxiety. It feels more like witnessing the world through their eyes — a documentary of what we’re living through, a bittersweet screenshot of the world as it is. The band tell us all of this so calmly and clearly, as if it’s not that important. It’s almost as if they’re saying, “Hey, these are the things that bother me, I guess. I just need to get them off my chest, but don’t forget to dance, because maybe it’s not a big deal. Even if it is, still dance.”
There’s something quite odd and relaxing about facing reality this way. It becomes possible to groove to it, dance to it, and somehow find a way through it — maybe even creating new narratives along the way. “Black Box” gets us on the road, and “Terminal” brings us back, both carrying the same energy. They feel like two sides of the same coin, but by the time we reach the other side, we are not quite the same. Then “Terminal” shifts into Arabic, bringing the album toward its closing moments: “The world spins around us / life is sand in our hands / and love is a story we couldn’t find it / did we leave anything unsaid?”
In the end, the album comes full circle, more or less where it started. The confusion is still there, the overthinking too, but there’s a little more acceptance packed in the baggage. And, well, the journey probably goes on — with better questions this time.