The main takeaway from Camp Cope's widely praised sophomore album was the Melbourne trio's biting commentary on the role of women in the music industry. In particular, "The Opener," the punnily titled first song on 2018's How to Socialise & Make Friends, leapt out of the speakers and made clear the band's intentions to push back against an environment that viewed groups like theirs as rarely more than a supporting act. It was a record that seethed with anger over the many faces of misogyny in music, but also displayed an emotional range that gave it depth and complexity. Musically, the band built upon their scrappy indie rock sound — snarkily punky and charmingly folksy in almost equal measure — and rose to greater heights after their eponymous debut had made them a success in Australia.
Now, having said what they needed to say, Camp Cope feel refreshed, rejuvenated and newly contented on their third album Running with the Hurricane. It's not that singer-songwriter Georgia Maq's anger about systemic equality has evaporated, nor have her wounds suffered from love, heartbreak and failure entirely healed. But musically and lyrically, these songs feel like an enormous weight has been lifted off the group's shoulders.
While How to Socialise dealt with feelings of anger and pain, Hurricane is focused on what's on the other side of adversity. With that comes more tender songwriting and brighter, gentler arrangements. Here, Camp Cope are a lot less Bikini Kill and a lot more Hop Along. They often evoke the soft-rock stylings of Canadian icons like Sarah McLachlan, Jann Arden and the sentimental side of Avril Lavigne, and there are Joni Mitchellisms to more than a few of Maq's melodies. Yet with organic production by Anna Laverty, and defiantly animated rhythm work by bassist Kelly-Dawn Hellmrich and drummer Sarah Thompson, their music still has that distinctly DIY spirit of underground indie-rockers.
On the title track, Maq sings about overcoming chaos and darkness to come out stronger on the other side — "There's no other way to go / The only way out is up" — and it bursts with the sunny energy of a Sheryl Crow tune. Throughout Hurricane, Maq is constantly singing about opening herself up to life. In power ballads "One Wink at a Time" and "The Screaming Planet," she opens herself up to affection, but also to solitude. In the radiant choruses of "Jealous," she opens herself up to vulnerability with a new person. And in the spunky yet subdued "Blue" and "The Mountain," she sings of loving with all her heart, in spite of everything. It ends with the stunning "Sing Your Heart Out," closing the record with a push toward self-acceptance: "You are not your past, not your mistakes, not your money, not your pain / Not the years you spent inside / you can change and so can I."
Early on, Camp Cope showed that they can strike out with enough force to make a dent in the music industry. Running with the Hurricane shows that they can love with just as much intensity. The songs are filled with empathy, compassion and encouragement, and there's a new tenderness in Maq's voice that makes the music all the more likely to touch your heart. It's an album that's expressly designed to comfort the afflicted, rather than afflict the comfortable.
They may have over-softened, though. There are a lot of simply beautiful songs here, but not unlike previous Camp Cope efforts, Running with the Hurricane is held back by sameness. If the band had added some more dynamics to their sound, allowing themselves to indulge in the wild and unruly side we had previously heard, the arrival at peace and harmony would be all the more satisfying. There's no calm quite as relieving as the one just after a storm has passed. This is a band that's clearly intent on making beauty out of chaos — if we could hear that happening in real time, there's no doubt it would be explosively cathartic. Still, it's rewarding to see Camp Cope find the kind of personal and artistic growth that so many long for. Running with the Hurricane finds them more in control than ever
(Run For Cover)Now, having said what they needed to say, Camp Cope feel refreshed, rejuvenated and newly contented on their third album Running with the Hurricane. It's not that singer-songwriter Georgia Maq's anger about systemic equality has evaporated, nor have her wounds suffered from love, heartbreak and failure entirely healed. But musically and lyrically, these songs feel like an enormous weight has been lifted off the group's shoulders.
While How to Socialise dealt with feelings of anger and pain, Hurricane is focused on what's on the other side of adversity. With that comes more tender songwriting and brighter, gentler arrangements. Here, Camp Cope are a lot less Bikini Kill and a lot more Hop Along. They often evoke the soft-rock stylings of Canadian icons like Sarah McLachlan, Jann Arden and the sentimental side of Avril Lavigne, and there are Joni Mitchellisms to more than a few of Maq's melodies. Yet with organic production by Anna Laverty, and defiantly animated rhythm work by bassist Kelly-Dawn Hellmrich and drummer Sarah Thompson, their music still has that distinctly DIY spirit of underground indie-rockers.
On the title track, Maq sings about overcoming chaos and darkness to come out stronger on the other side — "There's no other way to go / The only way out is up" — and it bursts with the sunny energy of a Sheryl Crow tune. Throughout Hurricane, Maq is constantly singing about opening herself up to life. In power ballads "One Wink at a Time" and "The Screaming Planet," she opens herself up to affection, but also to solitude. In the radiant choruses of "Jealous," she opens herself up to vulnerability with a new person. And in the spunky yet subdued "Blue" and "The Mountain," she sings of loving with all her heart, in spite of everything. It ends with the stunning "Sing Your Heart Out," closing the record with a push toward self-acceptance: "You are not your past, not your mistakes, not your money, not your pain / Not the years you spent inside / you can change and so can I."
Early on, Camp Cope showed that they can strike out with enough force to make a dent in the music industry. Running with the Hurricane shows that they can love with just as much intensity. The songs are filled with empathy, compassion and encouragement, and there's a new tenderness in Maq's voice that makes the music all the more likely to touch your heart. It's an album that's expressly designed to comfort the afflicted, rather than afflict the comfortable.
They may have over-softened, though. There are a lot of simply beautiful songs here, but not unlike previous Camp Cope efforts, Running with the Hurricane is held back by sameness. If the band had added some more dynamics to their sound, allowing themselves to indulge in the wild and unruly side we had previously heard, the arrival at peace and harmony would be all the more satisfying. There's no calm quite as relieving as the one just after a storm has passed. This is a band that's clearly intent on making beauty out of chaos — if we could hear that happening in real time, there's no doubt it would be explosively cathartic. Still, it's rewarding to see Camp Cope find the kind of personal and artistic growth that so many long for. Running with the Hurricane finds them more in control than ever
