Contrary to F. Scott Fitzgerald's well worn adage, the modern American music industry was built on second (and third and fourth acts). These days, even Fitzgerald would have had a vaporwave side-project to lean on after his book royalties dried up.
So there shouldn't be anything particularly notable about the musical pivot Sabrina Teitelbaum took after several years of making electronic pop music to minor renown as BAUM. Sobriety and a pandemic hammered home the fact that even Teitelbaum didn't really believe in the music she was making. So Blondshell, her second act, was born — and based on her explosive debut album, it's unlikely that anyone will be accusing Teitelbaum of a lack of conviction anytime soon.
Lyrically, the nine songs that make up Blondshell are a collection of exposed nerves. Together they paint the picture of a woman who throws her whole self into relationships, feels every moment of it, and, conveniently for listeners, sets it all to music.
Yet in an age of never-ending #sadgirl memes, that level of raw voyeurism alone can't elevate your art. Luckily, Blondshell's sharp-edge words bely the polish to her songwriting; lines like "I'm going back to him / I know my therapist's pissed," and "I think my kink is when you tell me that you think I'm pretty," barely mask deeply felt and often conflicting emotions. They're also hilarious mic drops that are perfectly bite-sized for better social sharing.
A cynic might call that calculated, and maybe it is. Or, like most people in their mid-20s today, Teitelbaum is just very good at the internet. But those lyrical dispatches also showcase a level of craftsmanship that Teitelbaum likely developed making the big tent pop music she abandoned. Decades ago, those musical pursuits would have been left for dead, but in the 21st century they're a digital trail for anyone to follow, dots to connect to her current work. Subject-wise she's still working around the same themes — love, lust, co-dependency, heartbreak — but there's a concision to her words now that makes them cut deeper.
Teaming with producer Yves Rothman, who previously worked with Girlpool and Porches among many others, Teitelbaum dresses her music in a modern indie take on '90s loud-quite-loud alt rock. It works remarkably well, with most songs exploding into a big, sing-it-to-the-rafters chorus. Comparisons to Hole and Nirvana are apt, but her pop instincts push her closer to Jagged Little Pill-era Alanis Morrisette, another artist who abandoned pop artifice for raw self-expression set to crunchy guitars, albeit at a much different scale.
Blondshell's early singles have been rattling around in many people's heads for months, leaving a growing audience primed for its unreleased songs that build out the world she's already created. Taken as a whole, this is the kind of record that will infect your life, to paraphrase "Sepsis," one of the record's standouts. I, for one, am down to let it kill me.
(Partisan)So there shouldn't be anything particularly notable about the musical pivot Sabrina Teitelbaum took after several years of making electronic pop music to minor renown as BAUM. Sobriety and a pandemic hammered home the fact that even Teitelbaum didn't really believe in the music she was making. So Blondshell, her second act, was born — and based on her explosive debut album, it's unlikely that anyone will be accusing Teitelbaum of a lack of conviction anytime soon.
Lyrically, the nine songs that make up Blondshell are a collection of exposed nerves. Together they paint the picture of a woman who throws her whole self into relationships, feels every moment of it, and, conveniently for listeners, sets it all to music.
Yet in an age of never-ending #sadgirl memes, that level of raw voyeurism alone can't elevate your art. Luckily, Blondshell's sharp-edge words bely the polish to her songwriting; lines like "I'm going back to him / I know my therapist's pissed," and "I think my kink is when you tell me that you think I'm pretty," barely mask deeply felt and often conflicting emotions. They're also hilarious mic drops that are perfectly bite-sized for better social sharing.
A cynic might call that calculated, and maybe it is. Or, like most people in their mid-20s today, Teitelbaum is just very good at the internet. But those lyrical dispatches also showcase a level of craftsmanship that Teitelbaum likely developed making the big tent pop music she abandoned. Decades ago, those musical pursuits would have been left for dead, but in the 21st century they're a digital trail for anyone to follow, dots to connect to her current work. Subject-wise she's still working around the same themes — love, lust, co-dependency, heartbreak — but there's a concision to her words now that makes them cut deeper.
Teaming with producer Yves Rothman, who previously worked with Girlpool and Porches among many others, Teitelbaum dresses her music in a modern indie take on '90s loud-quite-loud alt rock. It works remarkably well, with most songs exploding into a big, sing-it-to-the-rafters chorus. Comparisons to Hole and Nirvana are apt, but her pop instincts push her closer to Jagged Little Pill-era Alanis Morrisette, another artist who abandoned pop artifice for raw self-expression set to crunchy guitars, albeit at a much different scale.
Blondshell's early singles have been rattling around in many people's heads for months, leaving a growing audience primed for its unreleased songs that build out the world she's already created. Taken as a whole, this is the kind of record that will infect your life, to paraphrase "Sepsis," one of the record's standouts. I, for one, am down to let it kill me.
