Sugar Scars are here to drag yer into a fever dream and dare you to make sense of it. Dark Spark – White Light is their second crack at the whip, and Christ, you can tell they’re not interested in being a tidy, playlist-friendly alt-rock outfit.
This is art-rock stitched with darkwave gloom, wired anxiety, psychedelic sparkle, and a sort of unhinged confidence that only comes from two multi-instrumentalists locked in their own private tug-of-war between chaos and beauty. And honestly? It’s pretty thrilling to listen to, even when it threatens to collapse under its own ambition.
They open with Sad Rain, which is the sonic equivalent of someone staring out of a neon-splattered window at 3am, convinced the world is about to end but still composing poetry about it. The track nails the atmosphere — cold, elegant, dripping in cinematic gloom — but the vocal production feels slightly buried, like it’s hiding behind the synth haze when it should be slicing through it. You can feel something powerful beneath, but it’s never allowed to fully erupt. Still, it sets the tone: moody, textural, unapologetically weird.
Dark Charm, the early single, is the moment the album truly finds its swagger. Hypnotic, sharp-edged, absolutely dripping with gloom. It’s the most immediate thing here, and for good reason — it’s seductive without feeling try-hard, and it showcases their ability to write something catchy without sacrificing any of their eccentricity. If anything, hearing a track this strong makes you wish a couple more songs leaned into that clarity instead of smudging themselves into abstraction.
Then comes Mermaid, a track that seems determined to lure you in with softness before jolting you with darker, sharper textures. Beautiful stuff, if a bit overlong. Deathtiny leans more experimental — the sort of thing fans of their debut will hail as genius,i’ts a bi more fancy and is a nice shift, while casual listeners might wonder what the hell is happening. I think it works, but it occasionally wanders into “art for art’s sake,” flirting with indulgence.
The mid-album stretch — Mantra, Hum, With Me — is where the band’s chemistry properly shows. The ideas clash, grind, fuse, all without losing emotional thread. Mantra is hypnotic as hell, Hum is gritty and strangely intimate, and With Me brings a rare moment of vulnerability. But again, you get that sense the vocals could be pushed louder, clearer; at times the mix prioritises atmosphere over impact, and it undersells the melodic hooks hiding underneath. It’s a justified gripe because the songwriting is strong enough to hold the spotlight — it doesn’t need to lurk in shadows.
Hedonistika is pure fever-dream sleaze — the rowdiest moment so far, borderline industrial in its pulse — and it’s fantastic. Check Yo Self snaps into a more confrontational tone, the kind of track that probably goes off live. Burnett Sedition veers into darker territory again, and while the texture is incredible, the pacing sags a bit; the album briefly loses its sense of propulsion. Luckily Just Go nails the landing, closing the record with this bittersweet, shimmering exhale that feels like stepping out of the club into sunrise — sweaty, haunted, wired, but satisfied.
What Sugar Scars get right is the sheer audacity of their sound. No two tracks feel born from the same formula, but the record somehow holds together as one sprawling, noir-tinged narrative. It’s inventive, addictive, and bursting with personality. But the production could give the vocals more bite, and the pacing dips slightly in the back third — tightening those screws would make the whole ride hit even harder.
Still, Dark Spark – White Light feels like a band properly swinging for the fences. It’s messy, stylish, sincere, and utterly its own thing. And honestly, in a world of safe alternative rock, that’s worth celebrating.
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