EMA – “Exile in the Outer Ring”

The suburbs are a recurring theme in pop culture, and media about them usually centers around a familiar trope: the idea that, beneath the well-trimmed lawns and tranquility, there lies a darkness within the people, who are portrayed as unhappy or desperate even in their seemingly wonderful surroundings. My fear was that EMA’s new album, Exile in the Outer Ring, would cover similar thematic territory as lazy satires like American Beauty and center on that dissonance. Instead, she has made an album that is much more nuanced, much more real, and one that accurately cuts to the heart of a specific type of American existence.

That existence is people living in what she dubs “the outer ring,” an idea she explained in a recent interview with Jezebel:

To me it’s kind of like the outskirts of a city and what would have once been thought of as the suburbs. The idea of the suburbs is kind of outdated, that kind of affluent, white, homogeneous area. But now in Portland and I think a lot of European and American cities, the inner city is really where the wealth is concentrated and everyone else is getting pushed out. So I’m seeing these spots that I’m calling the outer ring, which could either be a version of utopia or dystopia.

I thought the concept was rather nebulous when I just read her explaining it, but what makes Exile in the Outer Ring such an effective album is how it comes to life in the music. All you have to do is listen to one of the songs and it’s easy to see what the “outer ring” is and what it’s about. It’s conveyed not just through the lyrics, which are full of specific lyrical details like riding in the back of Camrys or people standing outside of casinos, but through the music itself. The grinding industrial sound and squealing guitars evoke images of worn-down buildings and grimy streets, and EMA’s voice captures a feeling of resentment and despair that could boil over at any moment (on some of the more aggressive tracks, like “33 Nihilistic and Female,” it does).

The other obvious pitfall of an album like this is that it could come off as EMA writing about Those People and the Way They Live, which was a problem I had last year with PJ Harvey’s Hope Six Demolition Project album. She avoids this by inserting herself into the narratives, and using details from her personal life and upbringing in South Dakota that make these songs live and breathe instead of reading like attempts at journalism. I also like that the album isn’t just portraying “the outer ring” simplistically as some nightmarish hellscape. It skews darker overall, but there are also moments of prettiness and humanity amid the ugliness, which makes the album feel very true to life.

This album is also a nice progression for EMA, who blew me away with her debut album, Past Life Martyred Saints, which I loved because it was an album that was unafraid to get ugly and confront the darker side of human nature. This album is reminiscent of that one in its fearlessness, and it also incorporates parts of what she did on her second album, The Future’s Void, which felt more external and political. Exile in the Outer Ring is like a combination of those two: it’s a bracing blend of personal and political songwriting that is provocative and dark, but also full of life.

Daddy Issues – “Deep Dream”

One of my favorite micro-genres of music for the last few years has been this poppy form of women-fronted grunge, which is inspired by 90s bands like Veruca Salt. The basic sound of distorted guitars with lighter vocals obviously appeals to me, but I also like the subversiveness of these bands, who twist what was a predominately male style of music and reclaim it to tell stories from a different point of view.

There are a bunch of artists making music like this right now, from Colleen Green to Bully to Potty Mouth to Veruca Salt themselves, but Nashville’s Daddy Issues might be the best of the bunch. Everything about this band, from their name to their sludgy riffs to the frank, emotionally complex lyrics, is the epitome of what this style of music is about. If you have an affinity for it like I do (and maybe even if you don’t), Deep Dream will blow you away.

I am wary of putting a great rock band like this into the potentially condescending “women who ROCK” box, but so much of what makes this album unique is how it uses a woman’s perspective to delve into subject matter that most men couldn’t really write about with any sort of authority. “I’m Not” deals with the aftermath of a sexual assault, and sums up what makes this band so good: it has catchy hooks and great harmonies, but is also much more than just a nostalgic grunge tune. There is real meaning and feeling in these songs, and frontwoman Jenna Moynihan conveys it with her voice and lyrics.

While there are more serious songs like that, Daddy Issues also have a sense of humor, as their name suggests. “Dog Years” is in the tried-and-true “I hate my ex” tradition, but takes it to comical heights with some truly savage lyrics; “I hope you choke on your own spit in your own bed” and “you should go home to Chicago and take a long walk off the Navy Pier” stand out. Album opener “Mosquito Bite” covers similar thematic material with a memorable riff and a clever metaphor of an ex that seemed important being “just a mosquito bite.”

But the song that I really geeked out for on this album is a cover of Don Henley’s “Boys of Summer” that perfectly reimagines it in their own style, taking a song I had always associated with this very male nostalgia and twisting it into something that feels new. When the song isn’t being sung by one of the “boys” it has a completely different feeling, and it’s the clearest example of how this band revitalizes nostalgic sounds with a fresh perspective.

Girlpool – “Powerplant”

The first 50 seconds of Girlpool’s new album, Powerplant, sound exactly like I expect them to. Harmony Tividad and Cleo Tucker’s whispery voices interlock over soft guitar parts that are similar to their debut effort, Before the World Was Big, which wowed me back in 2015 with its minimalist style that found great power in simplicity. But then something surprising happens in the second part of “123:” a drummer comes in, there’s a loud, soaring chorus and Girlpool evolve in mid-song like a freshly leveled-up Pokemon. Similar to a level 36 Charizard, they’ve grown bigger, stronger, and even learned some new moves.

The decision to add percussion and expand the band’s sound runs an obvious risk: that, by embracing more conventional instrumentation and songcraft, Girlpool will lose what made Before the World Was Big so unique and become just another indie rock band. Tividad and Tucker are keenly aware of this, and much of Powerplant intentionally teeters on the edge of that cliff, only to be brought back to stability by surprising moments that subvert the indie rock form.

The third track, “Corner Store,” has one of those moments. It starts out as a jaunty indie pop song, erupts in a cacophony of noise out of nowhere, then abruptly switches back to the band’s usual sound as if nothing happened. It’s the most obvious example of one of the themes I got out of Before the World Was Big, which is Tucker and Tividad as these vulnerable young voices who are confronting the darkness of the real world in their music. This is emphasized even more on Powerplant, which contrasts their harmonies with noisy guitars and uses quiet/loud dynamics that wouldn’t sound out of place on a Pixies or Nirvana album.

Powerplant ends on two if its strongest tracks: “It Gets More Blue” and “Static Somewhere” both use the quiet/loud concept to full effect with big sing-along choruses and are the culmination of the band’s evolution from Juno soundtrack minimalists into full-blown rock stars. What’s really remarkable is that they pull off this transformation while losing none of what made Before the World Was Big feel so special. The harmonies of the two singers make the band still feel intimate, even when surrounded by much more noise than before.

After one listen to Powerplant, the fear of Girlpool becoming “just another band” was out the window. If anything, embracing the traditional rock style has further illuminated their strengths. There is now an even more subversive element to the band’s music as they play off indie rock tropes, and the use of dynamics helps highlight the unique presence of Tividad and Tucker. Their vulnerability, chemistry and songwriting ability ensure that everything Girlpool does will be original.