Harriette Pilbeam’s third album doesn’t imitate her inspirations — it captures them with remarkable subtlety and heart.

As she made her way through the press cycle for her new album, her third so far, Harriette Pilbeam often talked about finding self-acceptance and allowing herself more creative freedom. The idea behind those comments seemed to be that she views Liquorice as the closest she has come to capturing and expressing the exact sound she imagines for Hatchie. Rather than leaning on strong hooks and pop structures the way she did on her 2022 album Giving the World Away, this project leans into the rich reverb and fuzzy guitars tied to Slowdive, My Bloody Valentine and especially Cocteau Twins, offering a breezy pop take on the classic shoegaze foundation.

The album is arriving in late spring in Pilbeam’s home country of Australia, which feels fitting; written in Brisbane and Melbourne and later recorded at Jay Som’s home studio in Los Angeles, it unfolds with a warm, sunlit glow, almost like a summer that never seems to end. Sonically, she reaches in many directions, even if she is working from a narrower palette than Giving the World Away, which dipped into disco and new wave in its danceable moments. There are bright, experimental pop tracks like “Only One Laughing” and “Sage,” as well as songs that step into grittier, more forceful territory. “Wonder” blends thick guitar textures reminiscent of My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless with a melody that feels lifted from the Britpop era.

Pilbeam has long been labelled a dream pop artist, a description she has carried since she first released music and showcased those influences with pride on her debut EP Sugar & Spice in 2018. She seems to understand both sides of what makes the genre tick. “Anchor” plays like a direct nod to Cocteau Twins, drifting into a blissful, cloud-like state, while the standout “Lose It Again” reaches toward groups that sit on the outer edges of dream pop, especially The Sundays.

Across Liquorice, her lyrics blend seamlessly into the soundscapes she builds; the songs hold both the ache of longing and the sweep of romance, sometimes in the same breath. The beautiful “Part That Bleeds” clearly pulls from Richard Linklater’s Before trilogy. There is also a repeated focus on the kind of escape that comes with falling headfirst into infatuation, at least until the striking final track “Stuck,” where Pilbeam suddenly snaps out of the dreamy state the album creates and admits, “Seems I’m stuck with these pathetic dreams.”

Whether or not this album stands as the peak of what she calls Hatchie will likely depend on what you look for in her work. Fans who loved Giving the World Away might feel a little surprised to see her stepping back from the ambition and wide-ranging sounds of that record. But this particular style is where Pilbeam excels; instead of simply mimicking her influences, she brings them to life with detail, care and emotional intelligence. The end result might be the strongest dream pop release of the year.