

Whitney - Small Talk
REVIEW
Charles-Edouard Lahr
11/7/20253 min read
Whitney’s Small Talk is the kind of record that feels familiar right away, like returning to a place you’ve never actually been to. It doesn’t reinvent anything but doesn’t need to; it moves with the confidence of a band fully aware of its own chemistry. There’s an ease in the way Julien Ehrlich’s vocals lean into Max Kakacek’s guitar, a trust that comes from two musicians who have grown together rather than apart. It’s an album that looks inward without sounding heavy, grounded in small truths rather than grand gestures.
The first track, “Silent Exchange,” sets that tone right away. A gentle, drumless introduction opens like a slow sunrise, filled with strings and a piano, giving the album its first breath, a distinguished radiance that immediately catches your attention. It’s an elegant start that prepares you for what’s to come.
From there, Small Talk unfolds as a series of carefully arranged moments. Each song stands comfortably on its own, yet they all share that same easy blend of indie rock and soul. The guitars and strings consistently move as if they were in a conversation, one echoing the other with small melodic gestures. Ehrlich’s falsetto, reminiscent of the Bee Gees (showcasing he could easily be the fourth Gibb brother), stays at the centre of the songs. Soft around the edges but full of intention, it brings a sense of familiarity to the way these tracks move, without any of them ever feeling tired. Instead, they feel lived-in, like stories retold not out of habit but affection.
“Dandelions” sits near the heart of the record. With its twang and brightness, the song carries both ache and acceptance without ever losing its lightness. Ehrlich explained that the song came after two parallel breakups that left him and Kakacek “with equal parts confusion and sadness.” You can hear that mix of loss and relief in the way the horns lift the chorus and the slide guitar steadies the mood. It’s the kind of song that takes heartbreak and turns it into something beautiful, never indulgent.
An emotional counterpart to “Dandelions” would be “Evangeline,” featuring Madison Cunningham. Where “Dandelions” moves with brightness, this one stretches into something more layered. The filtered drums and twin guitars fill the space without ever crowding it. Cunningham’s voice blends effortlessly into Whitney’s world, adding a depth to the track’s sense of longing. And as the track concludes, a trumpet enters, bringing a graceful lift, tying everything together and lingering long after the song fades.
Midway through the record, “Islands” (Really Something) brings a shift in tone. Its subtle synth textures add a vintage touch, giving the album a different hue without breaking its atmosphere. It’s measured but warm, expanding Whitney’s palette while keeping the same emotional focus. You can sense the duo’s ease here, experimenting just enough to keep things alive without losing their footing.
The closing track, “Darling,” begins delicately before blooming into a radiant conclusion. Its nostalgic chord progression and soulful movement give the record a sense of closure, not through resolution but through acceptance. It doesn’t reach for something larger than itself; instead, it circles back to what the album does best, letting melody and emotion guide the way. As the final notes fade, it leaves behind the warmth and ease that define Whitney at their best.
As the record comes to a close, Small Talk feels fully formed within its own world. If the album has a limitation, it lies in its scope. Many tracks share a similar tone and rhythm, and a bit more variety could have made it even more immersive. Letting the songs flow into one another might have deepened the storytelling, turning the album into a continuous journey rather than a collection of moments. Still, Whitney’s intent feels clear. Small Talk doesn’t try to astonish; it simply sits where it belongs, confident in its soul. It’s a record built on the understanding between two friends, between instruments, between feeling and restraint, and that’s what allows it to stay with you long after it ends.


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