Details: Hundredth have built a career on transformation, embracing change as their most defining trait. Over the past decade, the South Carolina-based band have forged a reputation for pushing boundaries, evolving their sound with each new album as if stepping into a new world. From their ferocious hardcore roots to the lush, immersive shoegaze of RARE-which landed on Stereogum's 50 Best Albums of 2017 list- to the shimmering, cinematic synthpop of Somewhere Nowhere, each release has felt like the birth of a different band. Hundredth have explored a kaleidoscope of genres with unrelenting curiosity. Each era truly feels like a new identity-sometimes bruising, sometimes beautiful, but always unrelenting in it's desire to move forward. Now, after five years in the dark, they return with Faded Splendor-a vivid collision of post-punk urgency and widescreen indie rock. The album draws from decades of alternative influence: the angular pulse of early-2000s revival, the brooding intensity of '80s UK post-punk, the anthemic shimmer of '90s alt-rock, and the atmospheric drift of dream pop-with a touch of alt-country flickering in the margins, perhaps just a symptom of growing up in the South. But it isn't nostalgia-it's propulsion. The record opens with Curve, a soaring, emotionally charged track that sets the pace, with a lush, expansive sound reminiscent of Silversun Pickups or the atmospheric qualities of early-'00s indie rock. "Big Love" follows, carrying the weight of widescreen power-pop with an infectious, shimmering energy. "Dark Side," the lead single, earned praise from Stereogum, who likened it's energy to early Bloc Party, highlighting Chadwick Johnson's vocal "burly intensity" over a hook that's "clean and big." "All The Way" channels anthemic dance-punk and widescreen indie, with a stadium-sized energy driven by a pounding 4/4 pulse and angular guitars. "Blitz" delivers a tightly wound, post-punk anthem-relentless and cathartic, landing somewhere between Placebo, Interpol, and the explosive fervor of early Arcade Fire. "Waste" grinds through a wall of blown-out guitars before collapsing into a chaotic swirl of samples and turntables-one of the album's most unpredictable moments. "Glimmer" follows like the end of a coming- of-age film-euphoric, nostalgic, and wide open. Then "Dazzle" pulls the rug again, blending alt-country vocal inflection with dream pop textures that recall the melodicism of Dizzy Up the Girl-era Goo Goo Dolls or early Third Eye Blind. The closer, "Faded Splendor," slyly leads the listener to the edge-then freefalls into ambient jazz. It feels less like a curtain call and more like a cliff dive.