Exploring the otherworldly beauty of 'Again, for the first time' by Iris Caltwait

There is something entirely cinematic about the world Iris Caltwait has delicately built on 'Again, for the first time', her latest album. This is a body of work that thrives on contradiction, balancing intimacy and intensity with a never-faltering level of precision. There lies a haunting quality to this record that hasn’t left me since the very first listen and it is honestly addicting.

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Iris Caltwait, all via Bertine Monsen

'i remember' feels like sorrow and nostalgia haunt Iris' narrative, but it maintains a quiet innocence that swirls like an emotional merry-go-round. The breathy, airy vocals float over the instrumentation, gradually growing in volume until the elements dissolve at the end. We are drawn inward, watching her memories drift in and out of the track, always moving, never stuck, both physically and emotionally. The tape-like flickers at the close make it feel as if we have been witnessing her past unfold while she quietly recites her thoughts, a perfect dip into nostalgia, like a lullaby echoing through an empty room.

'i’m in the corner, alone' masters the balancing act between upbeat alt-pop and melancholic vocals. Lines like 'I’m in the corner alone / living my life through a phone / I made it all on my own / so happy I can’t fall down' carry a wry irony. The cheery exterior masks quiet isolation, giving the track a bittersweet charm. Here, we hear the expansiveness of Iris’s voice unfold, shedding the delicate eeriness that lingered through every bone on 'i remember' to something more pulsing, while maintaining that same earnest, heart-on-sleeve delivery.

With each song across this album, you get the impression that they are unafraid of wandering into darker corners, and 'honey, baby' lingers in this space with true vulnerability. It wrestles with questions of life, friendship, and loss, asking 'is remorse truly worse than dying?', a line that feels like it has been pulled straight from the depths of late-night overthinking. The first half melts gently, fragile and uncertain, before a sudden build-up takes you somewhere entirely unexpected keeping each moment a mystery until it arrives. The distorted, crashing production mirrors that emotional pivot, transforming hushed panic and the offset of pain into something full-throttle and beautifully unrestrained. It provides a cathartic release, cinematic, and visceral. Iris implores you to feel every shift and turn as they happen.

With every great album comes a track that stops you, making you think okay, more people need to listen to this artist. 'there are hard times (Say the Words!)' does exactly that. Where the previous track let the instrumentation do most of the talking, this one lets the lyrics take center stage. Lines like 'Hard times and I don’t cry / I’m here laughing with a broken heart / I’m just wishing I could say the words' capture that aching contradiction between strength and suppression alongside production that lifts the emotion towards euphoria. It feels so polished on the surface, but trembles just underneath. The final lines, 'I'm just wishing I could say the words / wishing I could say the words', delivered almost casually, pierce through the shimmer, revealing the confessions buried beneath. These human moments make this album come alive and feel all the more raw and sincere.

'PINHOLE' reveals one of the album's most intimate moments. Minimal guitar and Iris' otherworldly voice combine for this almost-private recording, like it has been lifted directly from its original voice memo. It is a twisted take on affection, and she knows just how much to reveal and when to pull back, and this feels like a melancholic lullaby. Similarly, 'THROW ALL THAT LOVE AWAY' blends grandeur with intimacy, where lyricism and nuance cuts through the ever-expanding sounds around her. The production never overshadows the emotion, but compliments it perfectly and with the synths at the end, they gently pull everything back down to earth again.

This is an album that remains strong through its 16-track run. 'put me in the backseat (red wet paint)' is chilling recount of feeling used and discarded. The isolated first chorus is like nothing else on the album, with distorted, choral effects building over time. It is the longest track and fully embraces that space, letting Iris control the narrative in a bold, ambitious way. With 'Spring Rush (a hot platonic subatomic crush)', the album comes alive in a playful, more theatrical energy. It is charged, magnetic in the smallest details as it fuses retro sounds with futuristic textures. The lyric 'I was only waiting for the right night to come alive and steal a star from the sky' captures the vibrancy of the track perfectly. 'Shaky' turns internal tremors into something loud and beautiful. It is a neat or polished outcome, but jarring in the way a nervous system overdriven by thought and emotion can be in its admission. Lines like 'It’s ok to scream, stand up for your inner child / and if you’re angry girl, let it out' channel this isolation and messy word of piecing a life back together, and wondering when, if ever, these feelings end. The later half of the track slips into an anxious, restless tension that feels oddly comforting and still.

Overall, this is a slow burning journey encapsulating the emotions that lurk beneath the surface, those that go undisclosed. 'Again, for the first time' is a demanding body of work, but this seems like where Iris is right at home, reveling in the weight of it all. She shows light and darkness with honesty, never striving for perfection but instead seeking understanding of what it truly really means to live, to feel.

Iris’ willingness to experiment with sound and structure has truly come into its own on this album.