Colleen Green has Matured (A Little) On “Cool”

Like a lot of people, I was saddened a few weeks ago by the death of Norm MacDonald, who I consider to be possibly the funniest guy who ever lived. One of the things I appreciated about Norm was how, in an era with a lot of “smart” comics who fancy themselves as philosophers, he was very willing to play the idiot. Some of Norm’s most iconic clips are him just acting like a goofball around people who are trying to be serious, and I often came away thinking he had just outsmarted all the people he was talking to, even as they were trying to appear intelligent and he was cracking stupid jokes. Norm really was the smartest guy in the room, in part because he didn’t care about revealing it to others.

I get some similar vibes from Colleen Green, who just released Cool, her first album since 2015’s I Want to Grow Up. I was obsessed with that album on a couple different levels: emotionally, I related strongly to the lyrics, and analytically I was fascinated with its weird kind of unassuming greatness. In a lot of ways, the album broke convention from the type of stuff I normally hype up: it was not even remotely subtle, it didn’t have a lot of creativity or ambition, and I doubt even Green herself would claim to be a particularly virtuosic musician who makes sounds you’ve never heard before. This made it an easy album for a lot of listeners to dismiss after one or two listens, and because Green presents herself in a somewhat frivolous manner (the jokes and stoner girl imagery), it never got much in the way of critical praise.

But I argued (and still do) that Green is a lot smarter than she gets credit for. She knows her own limitations and within those boundaries makes songs that are consistently fun to listen to and affecting while having the musical equivalent of character development. Her direct, unpretentious approach works largely because of her unflinching honesty. Of course, the majority of artists are honest, but there’s a difference between what I think of as “convenient honesty” and what Green does. Most will reveal themselves through art, but only the parts that still make them seem sympathetic, wise, or good. Green is very willing to sing about foibles that don’t necessarily paint her in a positive light to some listeners, which is both realer and a lot more brave. When I listened to “Deeper Than Love,” I had no doubt those were her real feelings, because why would anyone make that up?

I Want to Grow Up paired that brutal honesty with mostly straight-forward, loud guitar rock, creating an experience that was like being pummeled over and over again by reality, but in a way that was weirdly enjoyable. On Cool, Green has matured somewhat; there’s more of a variety of sounds and moods, which makes the album a little less directly impactful. The atmospheric “Highway” uses a synth and Green’s near-spoken delivery to replicate a night drive — Green says she prefers the scenic route, which I suspect is a metaphor for the ambling pace she lives her life at. The most adventurous track is “Natural Chorus,” which is pretty much Colleen Green does Stereolab. Most of the song is a simple motorik groove, and it’s another point where she shows a willingness to create more subtle moods with sound, along with the long opening riff on “Someone Else” and a closing guitar instrumental, the questionably-titled “Pressure to Cum.”

Those songs add some textures to the album, but Green is still most in her element when she’s making simple guitar pop that shows her personality. “You Don’t Exist” is a relentlessly catchy tune where she “calls bullshit” on social media, and “It’s Nice to Be Nice” has her reminding herself to be kinder to others (“it’s nice to be nice, it’s good to be good”) and reap the rewards. In typical form, this isn’t the most groundbreaking material, but Green presents it in a refreshing way. She doesn’t pretend to have all the answers, like she is the teacher instructing her listener students — she’s just exploring her own feelings in a way that is always direct and unpretentious, with a mix of seriousness and humor. Even as she explores new styles and matures, her ability to do that is what makes Green one of my favorite songwriters to listen to.

I Like These New Songs (Pt. 2)

Here is the long-awaited sequel to my blockbuster previous post, “I Like These New Songs (Pt. 1).” For any new readers who are unsure of what is going on: when we left off, I was linking to new songs I liked and then writing paragraphs about them. Since the first post was such a wild success, I figured I wouldn’t divert from that formula — it would be like making a Fast and the Furious movie without car races or whatever they’re doing in those now.

Colleen Green – “I Wanna Be a Dog”

Many words — some of them rather embarrassing — were spilt on the blog over Colleen Green’s last full length, I Want to Grow Up, which I then insanely listed as the #2 album of the decade when no other person who does things like ranking albums even thought it was good. Her new single, “I Wanna Be a Dog,” is another showcase of her unique gifts: while she may lack traditional ambition and creativity, she makes up for it tenfold with authenticity and (despite her tendency towards self-deprecation) a confidence in who she is. Green is in typical catchy and relatable form here, using various dog metaphors (the leash she puts on herself, barking at a closed door) to articulate her ongoing struggles with being an adult and overcoming insecurities. It’s fun to listen to, partially because it is so personality-driven and unpretentious compared to a lot of tedious indie dreck.

Angel Olsen – “Gloria”

In another career move aimed at me personally, Angel Olsen is following up All Mirrors and Whole New Mess with an EP of 80s covers, starting with this reimagining of Laura Branigan’s “Gloria.” If the measure of a cover’s quality is how well the artist adapts it to their own style, this scores highly. The original is in there somewhere, but for the most part Olsen has turned this into one of her typical swooning ballads, with swelling synths and some strings. Olsen sings like she really feels the words rather than the typical “wouldn’t it be cool and fun if I covered this song” vibe that sometimes makes covers boring and inessential.

Sungaze – “Body in the Mirror”

As someone who is on Bandcamp a lot and gets frustrated by soft pop artists who call themselves things like Satanic Witch Torture, I respect Sungaze’s straight-forward band name — this Cincinnati group sounds exactly like you’d expect, with a dreamy, psychedelic sound that is in the highly trafficked Mazzy Star area. What makes them just different enough from that band (and others like Widowspeak) is their embrace of more droning song structures that really let the sound wash over the listener. “Body in the Mirror” is a typical song from them, running over five minutes with some spacious guitar parts and simple lyrics that add some meaning without being too obvious about it.

Desert Liminal – “New Tongue”

It’s rare to find a band that truly has a unique sound, but Desert Liminal’s 2017 debut Static Thick had its own blurry, ambiguous, kind-of-poppy-but-not-really thing going on. The band has added a member and increased the production values a bit since then, but “New Tongue” still maintains their individuality. Sarah Jane Quillin’s rich vocals blend into the droning synths and her lyrics are real poetry, with personal details and the rhythmic sound of the words adding to the haunting, mysterious vibe of the sound.

Nation of Language – “Across That Fine Line”

This synth pop group made my coveted top albums list last year with their first full-length, Introduction, Presence, and are quickly following it up with an album that should lead to a break out of sorts. Generally I understand that the music I enjoy is wildly unpopular and most normal people would recoil in disgust at the mere sound of it, but I don’t know — listen to the soaring, anthemic chorus on “Across That Fine Line” and tell me it wouldn’t appeal to normies who enjoy bands like U2 and Coldplay. I’m already preparing my snide comments about how I liked them before they got big.

#1: Colleen Green – “I Want to Grow Up”

In the process of wordbombing the internet with solipsistic rants about how much the album SPOKE TO ME, I don’t think I did justice to how good I Want to Grow Up is as just a simple rock album. Now armed with a full band (at least in studio), Colleen Green really rocks on I Want to Grow Up, which has big 90s-inspired riffs and songs that are impossible to get unstuck from your head.

In a way, the fact that it’s so fun to listen to might have hurt I Want to Grow Up in terms of being perceived as Serious Art. When an artist plays quiet folk music, gently strumming their guitar and singing dramatically, it is automatically lent a certain authenticity and we credit them for baring their soul in the music. Green does this on I Want to Grow Up as well as anyone else, but it is sometimes overshadowed by the hooks, her deadpan delivery, and humor, which are all signals to not take this seriously.

But I Want to Grow Up is a truly great album that deserves serious recognition. What still stands out about it is Green’s fearlessness in communicating her fears and anxieties in such a blunt manner, and the way she taps into so many unspoken feelings shared by others. I lost count of how many times this album said something that I’d been thinking about forever, but hadn’t said out loud. Green nails every specific aspect of the minutiae of growing up and trying to overcome your own insecurities.

Even if I didn’t relate to it so hard, I Want to Grow Up would still be great because it’s such a focused album, with a clear progression in the songs. And most importantly, it is almost a complete portrayal of who Green is, from her darkest fears on “Deeper Than Love” to her blase sense of humor and conversation-holding anxieties on songs like “Pay Attention.” I love albums that really reflect the artist’s personality, and I Want to Grow Up did that better than any other I heard this year.