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The underappreciated Kid Swim is finally back, and just as awesome

The day has finally come. I never thought it would. I thought the rest of my life would pass without another synth-laden, underwater groove of one certain type gracing my parched eardrums. I’ve been waiting for this day since 2017.

Molly Parden has swirling, hypnotic vocal talents. She’s best known for her solo work, in which she builds cathedral-like sonic environments, then strips back everything that might hide her voice. Listening to her music in this form, there’s a sense that there’s barely anything there – yet what is there occupies a massive swath of the unexplored deep ocean. It is an experience comparable probably only to that of select tracks by a certain woman whose last name is the plural of Nick. This is not a light statement.

But here’s the thing. Something that is replete with artistic merit does not mean its creator can’t do another thing with a completely different kind of merit.

That is the case with the three-piece outfit¹ Kid Swim.

Whereas Parden’s lonesome music pares itself down to its essential elements, Kid Swim’s philosophy is to add, add, add, add, until the layers form an almost geologic stratification; things are piled on top of each other, yet fit in with each other like an elaborate system of keys and locks whose parts become inseparable, turning all at once.

Their first single, “LYDI,”² set this formula into motion with immense style. This was, again, in 2017. The song dropped seemingly out of nowhere, and if I recall correctly, Mz. Parden posted alongside it something to the effect of, Yes, this is actually me. It was a complete and utter departure from her trodden ground – and yet, it felt natural.

Take the “LYDI” single cover, for e.g.: It’s our lead singer floating horizontal under the surface of an electric blue pool, facing upwards, her fingers extended and just touching the surface, the barrier between water and air forming a reflecting, refracting mirror, her face a double-image subsurface. Though this is more than a hop/skip/jump from her own dark, moodily-aesthetic artwork, it preserves the ethereal nature – but in a bright, alive, excitable way. It retains just enough characteristics of her previous work to feel like a cohesive extension of her oeuvre, yet it opens up her world to a new emotional location.

The music does the same thing: Her voice is still hypnotic and soft, but it drapes atop a stuttering vocal sample, which itself floats above a cascade of synthesizers, held together with a tight, slightly-swung drum machine; it’s not so fast that it feels like a lame attempt at dance-crossover, but not so slow that it feels derivative of the singer’s creative past. It’s a new thing made from a known quantity placed in an entirely new context.

It excited me in every way music can excite me.

But the world was starting to enshittify at this point. Things were getting worse. It felt like no one was allowed to expect anything good to happen – and for whatever reason, Kid Swim took an unannounced hiatus. This fit right in with the late-2010s zeitgeist. No more partying, no more hypnotism. No, things were getting loud and chaotic, not gently fun.

And so I – and whoever else was listening to Kid Swim – settled in to a world in which this band had only released one original single and one Soundcloud cover.³

But on 20 August 2026, the trio returned. Gracing the surface of my beloved⁴ phone I found another water-centric image: A blown-out picture of trees reflecting (that word again) off the surface of a lake. Scrawled atop is the title: “Don’t Dream It’s Over with Kid Swim.”

Yes, this is not being released simply as a Kid Swim track; it’s Molly Parden featuring Kid Swim. What this means, exactly, isn’t really important. It could be that Parden’s greater following will be more willing to click on it if her name is directly listed. These things happen. Do what you gotta do.

The song itself is a cover of a 1986 song by Crowded House – a song which is in The Billions Club on Sp*tify – but KS doesn’t mimic the original. Where the OG track feels somewhat funky in spite of its introspective lyrics, Kid Swim breaks the song down into something that feels like . . .

. . .bear with me . . .

. . . warm maple syrup with edible glitter in it.

As in “LYDI,” a stuttering vocal sample accentuates analog synths, smooth yet exciting. It begins with pure softness, allowing Parden’s voice to croon the wonderful lyrics without distraction,⁵ leading us through the first verse and chorus. In the second spat of lyrics, a low drum machine introduces a backbone to the “syrup,” until out of nowhere, an echo-laden snare drum reverberates a taste of the 1980s; electric guitars play out a snappy, sparkling riff, before we drop back down. The song continues all the way through like this: Elements come in, then go out, then come back, then reorganize themselves.

This is a masterfully arranged cover. It nails the vibe of the song itself – meaning, its lyrics’ and chords’ underlying mood – in such a way that turns it into A Kid Swim Song. This isn’t tossed out, nor is it thrown together. It feels like a maturation of the band’s previous work.

The world is shittier now than it was in 2017: If we were on the way down back then, we’ve discovered that we can go lower and lower and lower than any of us could have imagined. Shit fucking sucks.

But something is happening: Art is back. I don’t know if you’ve realized it, but creative endeavors are getting – across the board – stronger and stronger, more and more true, deeper, more emotional, more honest-to-the-Universe. Though I never expected this band to come back, their return makes sense. We’re all trying to get back to something we lost, because we’re lost right now. Any way to bring one back to oneself is now a sacred, irrefusable path.

To have a new Kid Swim recording on the books is a gift. Not only does it feel good to have a wonderful band back, active, in our eardrums, it also feels good to know that these three people got themselves back into a room and made something.

Now, if the world is really going to get better, one metric would be whether Kid Swim continues to return. “LYDI” was fantastic, and this cover is fantastic too; but this reviewer thinks that what we really need is these mysterious individuals to put their powers together and write and record songs from their heads and hearts. What they can do now, hke is sure, would be wiser and bigger than what they did nine years ago. A full Kid Swim LP would fucking murder.

All hail the return of Art, and all hail the homecoming of Kid Swim. We hope to hear far, far more from this band. They deserve to explore this special, irreplicable sound, and anyone who hears it will most likely be touched by it.

1. Here’s where I’d usually list the home base of the artist in question – in this case, I’m not sure where it is. Possibly somewhere in Kentucky, but the only clue I have is a song from MP’s solo career which released well over a decade ago. I’d also list the names of the other members, which I can’t do, because I can’t find them. I respect the lack of public *nstagram information greatly. ↩︎
2. . . . which stands for “Like You Did It” . . . ↩︎
3. (Of Fleetwood Mac’s “Little Lies,” which, interestingly, features mostly Christine McVie rather than Nicks. Possibly our earlier comparison wasn’t quite apt: Maybe Parden is more like McVie (née Perfect). But comparisons, after all, aren’t that important. What’s important is the word. MP is not a clone of anyone – unlike certain modern so-called rock ‘n’ roll bands who choose to turn themselves into clones. But that’s a conversation for a different time.) ↩︎
4. Lol. ↩︎
5. There is freedom within / There is freedom without is an absolutely killer opening line, and it only gets better from there. ↩︎