Through a small door glowing red, going down the stairs, and into a sea of smoky silhouetted figures, swaying and cast in blue light, you enter the hazy underworld of Manchester’s Northern Quarter: SOUP’s basement. It’s a Sunday night and Acopia’s sultry electronic dream pop permeates through the crowd, conversations dissipating into stripped-back, intimate, ethereal noise.
The Melbourne trio, comprising Kate Durman, Lachlan McGeehan, and Morgan Wright, formed as Acopia in 2018. They released their debut album Chances in 2022 and their self-titled album Acopia the following year, establishing themselves as cultivators of introspective dream pop and sultry electronica. The music floats in its own melancholic bubble, tracks loosely strung together through themes of loneliness, introversion, and unreciprocated love.
Drawing from trip-hop, dream-pop, shoegaze, and electronica, Acopia have nurtured a sound that is distinct and transparent in what it tries to say, both lyrically and sonically through their stripped-back production style. Acopia mould the simple into something meaningful.
Currently undertaking a European tour, Acopia’s stop at SOUP was only of many. It was not the group’s first Manchester rendezvous either, having performed at YES Basement as part of Mood Swings in May of 2025.
The band’s latest album, Blush Response, was released via Scenic Route in September, contributing to the London-based label’s catalogue of experimental indie-electronica and synth-pop from the likes of Mark William Lewis and Nourished By Time.
The self-mixed record is an ode to the alienated, to those stuck in a loop of self-reflection, weaving stories of loneliness, mundane repetition, and obsession. But Blush Response plays with the concept of optimism too, teasing the potential for healing and happiness, reminiscing over ruminating. The album also hints at a more upbeat turn for the band, drawing more from dance music such as jungle and atmospheric drum and bass; the album seamlessly combines these influences with modern shoegaze.
The scene at SOUP is that of a disco for loners. Closed eyes, heads down, shoegazing and nodding to the soft, slow, atmospheric breakbeats of ‘Falling’, which are accompanied by strong basslines and minimal repetitive guitar by McGeehan and Wright. Durman’s line ‘‘keep on falling’’ rings out as blue smoke descends into the crowd who remain entranced.
The band plays fan-favourite ‘Be Enough’, a highlight from their second album which features spare elements imbued with mystique, combining to form an introspective anthem. As a listener, you are situated at an indistinct event, a house party perhaps, probably as cloudy and dim as the gig itself, replaying the same obsessive thoughts over and over as the night descends into a sombre and subdued haze: ‘‘keep filling up my cup… will I ever be enough?’’.
Acopia’s presence as performers reflects their approach to music. Little is explained between songs, just a brief thank you to the crowd: minimalistic yet intentional, genuine and direct, with an edge of mystique. Pitchfork concurs, having praised the trio’s ability to say a lot with fairly little with 2023’s Acopia, to build a world and situate their listener inside of a melancholy-tinged dreamscape full of, as they put it, ‘‘missed connections, miscommunications [and] listless interactions’’.
Blush Response presents new aspects of this narrative: optimism, desire, and healing. ‘See You in Everyone’ stands out as a track full of hope. It begins with synths that seem to smile and follows with a guitar line full of the possibility for healing. Durman maintains her neutral tone, but the lyrics are sweet and reminiscent; while the narrator ‘‘can’t believe that you’re gone’’ they cherish the love they once felt, feeling ‘‘like you never left because I see you in everyone’’. It sounds like a smile to yourself while remembering a happy time, a cherishment of a love that’s run its course and an ending which propels you forward.
Live, the shoegazey groove and hopeful piano notes in ‘Falter’ maintain this new direction for the band.
However, by the end of the record, in ‘Real Life’ and ‘Chase Me’, the tone shifts, quite literally as the lyrics suggest ‘‘back to default’’; to obsession, loneliness, and longing. The dreamy yet regretful Nabihah Iqbal-esque guitar in ‘Last Word’ creates a feeling of confusion and brain fog, as the used dishes of a past lover sit stagnant on the sink, an image of love gone stale and life in stopped motion. Ultimately, both narrator and listener are left with little closure. The narrator remains in a daze of stale heartbreak, knowing they want to heal but reverting to the same patterns of introspection and insularity.
Across the record, the intensity of guitars and steady drums override vocals, as if a simulation of a cloudy brain, thoughts foggy and difficult to make out, the narrator tired of their own internal monologue and external unreciprocated obsession.
As the gig comes to a close, the band makes a swift exit after thanking the crowd. The lights come up and blue turns to a warm yellow, revealing the bare brick and pipes which give SOUP its rustic, industrial charm. The microphone is left standing solemn on the stage, patient for its next use.
Many audience members will have found themselves wishing the music would join them on their journey home, because that’s what Acopia’s sound encapsulates best: a bus at night, a ponderous stare out the window, watching the lights of a city bustling with people and stories of love and heartbreak go past in a flash. A hazy capture of lust and loneliness. And perhaps an ode to feeling blissfully numb to it all.
Listen to Blush Response here.
