Sisterworld marks not just the fifth full-length for Liars, but also the trio’s first album to be recorded in its entirety in the US since 2004’s They Were Wrong, So We Drowned. In a recent statement, lead vocalist Angus Andrew, guitarist Aaron Hemphill, and drummer Julian Gross—who headed to Los Angeles for the album’s creation—described Sisterworld as a representation of their own space, “completely devoid of influence, somewhere remote from the false promises and discarded dreams amassed in LA.” The album, written and recorded with John Brion and collaborator Tom Biller, explores the loss of self to society and celebrates the freedom that comes with it. The accompanying artwork insert amplifies the aforementioned concepts, with functional peepholes and photos of locked doors juxtaposed against a sprawling forest. Both music and artwork act as an invitation into the expanding world of Liars.

Sisterworld opens with the band’s first released single, “Scissors.” This intro track billows with welcoming, ethereal harmonies—not unlike those found on 2006’s Drums Not Dead—before jumping to visceral rock sounds reminiscent of their 2007 self-titled album. “Here Comes all the People” is amassed with eerie whispers and a menacing discord between instruments. As the guitar moves up and down a minor scale, nonchalant lyrics talk of “counting victims one by one.” The mood shifts just a degree darker for the following track, “Drip,” and while this one boasts a faster tempo, the lyrics are contained within a similar, sleepy delivery from Andrew.

The seventh track, a standout entitled “Proud Evolution,” starts with a slow and dramatic crescendo typical of Liars, but a minute and a half in, the beat emerges and the listener is treated to a layer-wealthy jam that is both catchy and clever. “The Overachievers,” the fastest of the tracks on the album, features carefree lyrics and a punky surfer feel, and collective chanting too. Here, the album shifts from its previous somber mood and eases into a more free-flowing experience. This juxtaposition meshes with their initial concept, from alienation to celebration. It’s all fun for these guys towards the end, and the last track, “Too Much, Too Much” is no exception. Playfully looped vocals and a bassoon track melt effortlessly into a synth, which itself fades into nothing.

Carefully placed momentary silences dapple the album, allowing for a natural sense of breathing room and before you know it, your 40-minute tour of Sisterworld is over, but it’s a trip you won’t soon forget.