The Blue Nile’s Hats is filled with lovesick people and nocturnal places, existing in a perpetual state of starless nights and slanted rainfall. The album evokes a liminal metropolis bathed in the amber glow of sodium-vapor street lamps, where lonely souls wander down moonlit alleyways in search of something that has already left them long ago. It is here, where traffic lights blink for no one and smoke curls around sewer lids, that Hats stakes its home. It sustains this atmosphere from beginning to end — each song a jigsaw puzzle piece that forms a mosaic of romance and . . .
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