Mannequin Pussy has an ear for sound, but how they deliver themes and the scope of what the music conveys has always been something that I’ve readily sought when digging through bands. Their new album, I Got Heaven, explores similar phonetic and sonic choices through new content that eschews the focus love songs of 2019’s Patience for a look at complicated personal relationships and emotions attributed to the notion of aging/maturity—it has the density that never clashes with the production, especially as it maneuvers through elements that interchanges influence of shoegaze and sheer punk veracity. What you get pounding in your ears is this fait accomple of synergy ruminating amongst the band members, where, at a point, you notice how a shift within production can seamlessly happen while furthering the thesis of which it’s creating. I Got Heaven perfectly encapsulates who they are by placing their artistry forward and delivering brilliant bravery, even if one wishes for more than the 30 minutes accumulated; luckily, the album is a tour de force for Mannequin Pussy, and its seamless flow is one of the reasons it excels and leaves me thinking it’s their best work to date.
Opening with “I Got Heaven,” you get an instant tinge at what the music is coming to say, and more so how it doesn’t tread into some familiarity, and letting the production become a secondary lead of a scene with each track. “I Got Heaven” is bombastic and infused with exhilarating angst; it is an archaic anthem about self-esteem empowerment, making one less insecure about their looks. It’s then tempered by tracks that blend the riotous with the melodic riffs—or monochromatic—allowing for an equilibrium that makes their words more reflectable. “Loud Bark,” which follows “I Got Heaven,” is more melodic as it opens the stage for the pedals and synths to weave in and give the production range before its bombastic middle. However, as modestly bare as these words come across, delving into each song gives you something different than before while retaining a sense of self without letting the choices overpower what gets intended, like with the song “Sometimes,” which has a more “rock-n-roll” arraignment that feels like an antithesis to the lyrics. That’s how the music pounces on you with sheer bliss in a chasm that bolsters what could be and is, sans “Sometimes,” which plays it safe instrumentally.
Mannequin Pussy has an identity to its craft, and here it shows through the construction of the tracks, where it subverts expectancy. “I Got Heaven” and “Split Me Open” are contrasting bookends where what comes in the middle is very yin-yang. The tracks that follow “I Got Heaven” are more melodic, focusing on tempering one’s expectations to wow them tremendously mid-song with a significant drop of riotous strings. “Sometimes” and “Ok? Ok! Ok? Ok!” are the bridge that eases between styles as you get more fantastic, abrasive moments that feel naturalistically punk in the latter half, like with “Aching,” where it speaks to desire to know what it’s like to be human, or “Loud Bark,” where it tackles the expectancies of genders and how the lead singer is someone who doesn’t back down and sees their success. Adding the intensity of the vocals gives it more bravado in the former and specifically the anthemic “Of Her,” where it feels anew like “Loud Bark” with its moments of soft vocals. The vocals make the journey through all 30 minutes feel more impactful, even if it makes you yearn for more because the production is as close to consistent.
With tracks like “Nothing Like” and “Softly,” the blended melodic, turning to bombastic punk rock fluidity, there is no denying that fans of the genre and newcomers will see the delicate craft in something that may sound archaic and misguided by description. What makes punk great is its ease of assimilating with emotion because much of it reflects the notion of finding an empty room to yell out your woes. It does so with these tracks as they look at love through a unique lens. The latter plays into these notions of love on the surface, and this fear of seeing their true self can be hard to stomach because they know it could switch the flow of the relationship. Though the former is more linear in production, the latter plays with meaning by interchanging the vocal levels of what is getting said. In the bridge of “Softly,” the vocals act sobering and silky as if trying to dispel what gets contemplated within the verses and chorus. I see them as primary examples of the album’s peak, giving us more reason to love Mannequin Pussy.
Unfortunately, the album isn’t without faults but for me they are more quibbles. At 30 minutes, the album feels like it skirts by swiftly in the latter half, almost making the 30 minutes feel shorter. It hinders the pacing and can put you in a spell as they have objectively given you what they wanted to say. It can feel like a lot, and some of its instrumentations can play it safe with “Sometimes.” It’s a good song that helps bridge the flow, though it doesn’t do much without the vocals elevating it modestly. These minor stumps don’t tarnish the quality; instead, they leave a smallish emptiness you can only fill by replaying their collection of albums again in circulation. I want to say it’s a perfect album, but it lacks that cache to take over the edge and be head over heels, though I’d be remiss if I didn’t say this is one of my favorites of 2024 already. These quibbles still don’t straddle me away as it’s ripe with great hard-edged bangers that you’d want to grow your hair again just to rock out.
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