B-Side Guys

Titles matter. Especially when they announce departures. Goodbye Dreampop Troubadour functions as both farewell and evolution, Kramies stepping away from the Billboard-bestowed designation that defined his previous work while simultaneously delivering his most complete realization of the sound that earned him that title. Three years after his self-titled LP landed on seven “Album of the Year” lists and earned accolades from NME, Clash, Billboard, NPR, and the BBC, he returns with seven tracks that deepen rather than abandon his established aesthetic. What he quietly termed “Folklore Dreampop”—blending dreamy textures, poetic myth, and spectral beauty—gets full flowering here through collaboration with Grammy-winning producer Mario McNulty, known for his work with David Bowie.

Kramies has spent nearly fifteen years forging a singular path as deliberate outsider, cultivating cult appeal across the Atlantic through commitment to clear artistic vision. That uncommon steadiness—refusing trend-chasing or genre pivots—has paradoxically enabled genuine evolution. Artists who constantly reinvent rarely develop depth; those who dig deeper into specific territory eventually strike something profound. Goodbye Dreampop Troubadour represents that excavation’s payoff, wandering through eerie scenery, fairytale myths, and tender memories with haunting grace that feels both inevitable and surprising.

“Perfectly Dreadful” opens the album with title that captures Kramies’ dualistic approach—beauty and unease occupying the same space, perfection containing dread rather than excluding it. The production, handled by McNulty alongside Chris Keffer and Kramies himself, favors atmosphere over clarity without sacrificing definition. David Goodheim’s electric guitar and bass work (appearing across multiple tracks including “Hollywood Signs” and “Social Light”) creates foundation that grounds the dreamier elements, preventing the album from floating into pure abstraction. John Panza’s drums and percussion maintain rhythmic pulse that keeps these songs tethered to earth even as they reach for otherworldly realms.

“Social Light” continues establishing the album’s particular nocturnal palette. Under The Radar’s description of Kramies’ previous work possessing “the ethereal quality of a waking dreamscape” applies even more accurately here—these songs exist in liminal space between consciousness and sleep, memory and imagination. Allison Lorenzen’s vocals and harmonies (appearing on this track and “Between the Moon”) add dimension without disrupting the album’s cohesion, her voice weaving through Kramies’ arrangements like additional instrumentation rather than competing presence.

“Summer Scurry and Our Holidays on Sunset” extends title into miniature narrative, evoking specific season and location while maintaining abstract quality. Kramies writes like someone documenting dreams—concrete details emerge but causality remains mysterious, logic follows emotional rather than literal patterns. That approach requires trust from listeners, willingness to inhabit these songs without demanding they resolve into clear meaning. The reward for that trust is music that functions more like poetry than prose, suggesting rather than explaining.

“Goodbye Dreampop Troubadour,” the title track, marks symbolic departure from designation that served Kramies well but perhaps threatened to limit future movement. The track doesn’t reject what came before—it integrates and transcends it. Jason Lytle (of Grandaddy) secretly appears here as the “rocket ship swell sound,” an Easter egg that rewards attentive listeners while serving the song’s needs rather than announcing itself. That restraint characterizes the entire album—collaborators including Dave Eggar on strings and string arrangement (on “Hollywood Signs”), David Paolucci on synth strings and percussion (appearing on “Between the Moon” and “Kite Ropes”), and McNulty’s production all serve Kramies’ vision without overwhelming it.

“Hollywood Signs” arrived as lead single, its lyrics documenting dissolution through geographic markers and substance use—scoring drugs on New York subways, fighting through London, drinking nights hard, driving to Big Sur with radio loud. Those lines “You tore your dress as I wrote out the last act / I’m gone / Yeah I’m gone / And I might not be back” capture relationship’s theatrical collapse, self-awareness about performance not preventing the drama. The refrain about “stupid Hollywood Signs” locates personal narrative within larger mythology, individual story reflecting cultural symbols. McNulty’s production here conjures dusky, dreamlike landscapes filled with nostalgia and nighttime color, proving his Bowie credentials translate to very different artistic context.

“Kite Ropes” and “Between the Moon” close the album maintaining the established atmosphere while providing resolution through continuation rather than conclusion. These aren’t songs that tie narratives neatly; they’re songs that accept inconclusiveness as appropriate ending. The album was recorded across multiple studios—Incognito NYC, Magnetic North, Dark Current—and various locations including New York City, Cleveland, Boulder, and Los Angeles. That geographic spread mirrors the album’s thematic wandering, creation happening across distance and time before coalescing into coherent statement.

The cover artwork by Guillaume Mazel and design layout by Derek Lee LaJoie, utilizing signature font created by Lady Viktoria, establishes visual identity that matches the music’s particular aesthetic. Kramies understands that albums function as complete artistic statements requiring attention to every element—sonic, visual, textual. That commitment to total vision distinguishes artists building lasting work from those releasing collections of disconnected songs.

What makes Goodbye Dreampop Troubadour significant isn’t radical departure or unexpected reinvention—it’s the confidence to deepen existing approach rather than chasing novelty. Kramies spent nearly fifteen years establishing his sound and building audience that appreciates his specific gifts. Now, working with McNulty and his regular collaborators, he’s delivered what he accurately describes as “perhaps his most complete vision to date.” The album arrives “like a story whispered in twilight: gentle but intense, beckoning us closer.”

That description captures both the music’s quality and Kramies’ understanding of his own work. He’s not shouting for attention or demanding validation—he’s creating immersive worlds and inviting listeners to enter willingly. The album functions as soothing, stirring, and subtly unsettling simultaneously, “the stuff of folklore and fantasy—music with a deeply touching human heart.” Those aren’t empty descriptors; they’re accurate characterizations of what Goodbye Dreampop Troubadour achieves.

By titling the album as farewell to his Dreampop Troubadour designation, Kramies signals evolution without rejection. He’s not abandoning what made him distinctive—he’s claiming authority to define himself beyond single phrase, however apt. The music proves that authority earned, delivering his most realized work while pointing toward continued growth. For artist who’s made career from being himself and sticking to clear artistic vision, Goodbye Dreampop Troubadour represents both arrival and departure, ending one chapter while beginning another from position of hard-won strength.