EUSEXUA: Afterglow feels like the emotional and physical aftermath of EUSEXUA—the moment when the rave ends, adrenaline fades, and everything slows down, softening into introspection. If EUSEXUA was about movement, sweat, and release, Afterglow is about reflection, vulnerability, and the quiet weight that lingers afterward. It’s subtler, but every choice feels deliberate.

The album opens with “Love Crimes,” immediately setting the tone. Twigs’ vocals emerge slowly—fragile, distant—before sinking into darker, techno-leaning territory. The tension between her angelic, distorted voice and the deep, alien-like beat evokes dancing alone in a shadowed club. Hypnotic and moody, the vocals sometimes feel intentionally buried, reinforcing the record’s hazy, dissociative atmosphere.

Tracks like “Slushy” and “Touch A Girl” prioritize mood over structure. They feel like emotional states rather than conventional songs, with soft, digitized beats, echo-laden vocals, and deep bass that implies movement without committing to it. There’s a sense of suspension, like floating underwater, waiting for something to break through that never quite does.

When Afterglow hits moments of clarity, they’re striking. “Wild And Alone” features stronger, more direct vocals and a groove that’s slightly more upbeat without breaking the album’s spell. The chorus exudes sultry confidence, and PinkPantheress’ understated contribution aligns perfectly with the record’s inward-facing energy. Similarly, “Predictable Girl” revisits house elements through sharp hi-hats and swelling bass, nodding to EUSEXUA’s club roots while keeping everything softened and blurred.

Texture shifts further on tracks like “Cheap Hotel” and “Sushi.” Warped male vocals, industrial bass, and hypnotic repetition add an experimental edge, even as the album remains less abrasive than its predecessor. On “Sushi,” Twigs’ squeaky, almost childlike vocals collide beautifully with the heavy, hollow bass, creating one of the record’s most memorable sonic moments.

Emotionally, the album grows quieter and more haunted as it progresses. “Lost All My Friends” is ghostlike, with distant vocals hovering over a subdued beat that underscores loneliness and detachment. Afterglow finds gentle resolution on “Stereo Boy,” where clearer vocals and choir-like harmonies lend warmth and grounding. The distorted, washed-out beat feels like a soft farewell rather than a dramatic conclusion.

Compared to EUSEXUA, Afterglow is more restrained and less experimental, but that only enhances its impact. It reframes the original album through the lens of calm reflection, exploring the residue left behind by previous highs. While it may not be as immediately gripping or boundary-pushing, it is immersive, meticulously produced, and thoughtfully paced. As a companion to EUSEXUA, Afterglow deepens the experience, proving itself a strong, intentional continuation rather than a mere afterthought.