Archives September 2024

If someone had informed me a year earlier that a 26-year-old vocalist would assist me in redefining my sense of self as a middle-aged mother, I would have hurled my neck cream at them. It all transpired unexpectedly. One morning, the children were at school, and I was seated at my laptop, relishing the tranquility of my home. Amid my usual singer-songwriters who amplified my mild depression from nearly a decade of parenting, Chappell Roan emerged. Before encountering her, “touch me, baby” was far from my vocabulary—I was overwhelmed by contact. I preferred solitude. However, once Roan appeared on Spotify, she sang those words with the voice of a seasoned, soulful old songbird, compelling me to sing along.

My existence at 43, with two young ones, is starkly dissimilar to my 20s. Query any mother whether she remains the same person she was fresh out of college, and she’ll likely pause to nostalgically recall the liberty and excitement of those times. A friend of mine, who recently welcomed her third child, remarked, “Entering a Toyota Sienna feels like stepping into a trendy nightclub.” In essence, our interests have shifted from bar encounters to weighted blankets and seltzer. Yet, as I eagerly devoured Roan’s initial album, The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess, I realized that beneath the additional girth around my middle, the spider veins, the stiffened hip, the sheer fatigue, the hormonal oscillations, the part of me from my 20s remained intact. Even more surprising was Roan’s capacity to mirror my present reality, enabling me to recognize that these two distinct versions of me could coexist.

When I inquired of Maggie Downs, aged 48 and mother to a 10-year-old, why she is so fond of Roan, she mentioned the juggling act all mothers face—caring for others while also striving to nurture our own selves and recall our identities. “Chappell’s music/personae propose that multiple roles can exist simultaneously. This needn’t be a balancing act at all; we encompass multitudes,” states Downs. Just as Roan sings about stretching herself across four states, from small-town Missouri to Los Angeles, in her track “California,” mothers stretch themselves across their households—one hand tending hair, one hand at a laptop advancing her career, one foot nudging dirty laundry closer to the hamper, the other foot wiping away a booger-like residue from a child’s slime kit on the floor. Emerging from the fatigue of childrearing (and carrying the mental burden for our partners) is a fervent yearning for empowerment. As the ascending strings at the onset of “Femininomenon” yield to a sound akin to our collective heartbeat, Roan questions if we know our desires and needs. Does it occur? “No!” echoes a chorus of female voices. The beat then drops, the cowbells sound, we cease folding the laundry, and we dance out our frustrations.

In some way, Roan has already absorbed the insights most of us don’t gain until our 40s or 50s. When she declined to create a video for “Good Luck, Babe” owing to touring exhaustion, weary perimenopausal and menopausal mothers everywhere rejoiced in the act of saying no. Furthermore, her social media appeal for fans to respect her privacy in public, which angered those who believe the loss of autonomy and privacy is part of her celebrity role. Moms face similar expectations, though instead of icons, we are seen as martyrs: Our bodies, our time, and our energy are for our families. We chose motherhood, hence, we have no validity in complaining about feeling overwhelmed by contact or requiring more solitude.

Após Charli XCX liberar seu sexto álbum de estúdio, Brat, em 7 de junho, a internet rapidamente entrou em fervor. Embora várias faixas tenham gerado discussão—“360,” com seu grupo de garotas famosas; “Penso nisso o tempo todo,” refletindo sobre a estranheza de ter amigos com filhos—“Menina, tão confusa” iniciou uma conversa diferente, devido às alusões de Charli a uma conhecida rival com “o mesmo cabelo” que ela. Em questão de segundos, detetives virtuais deduziram que a canção se referia a Lorde—embora essa conclusão se complicasse pelo fato de que Lorde rapidamente foi ao Instagram para elogiar Brat.

Mais surpreendente ainda, Lorde respondeu de fato à música. Ontem à noite, as duas artistas lançaram sua primeira colaboração conjunta, o remix “A versão da menina, tão confusa com lorde”, produzido por A.G. Cook. Em vez de um verso brincalhão e descartável, Lorde respondeu às inseguranças manifestadas por Charli sobre seu relacionamento (“Falamos sobre fazer música / Mas não sei se é sincero / Não dá para saber se você quer me ver / Caindo e fracassando”) com uma honestidade cortante. “Você sempre dizia, ‘Vamos sair’ / Mas então eu cancelava no último momento / Eu estava tão perdida em meus pensamentos / E com medo de estar em suas fotos”, canta Lorde. “Porque nos últimos anos / Estive em guerra com meu corpo / Tentei me esgotar ficando mais magra / E então recuperei todo o peso / Estava presa no ódio / E sua vida parecia tão incrível / Nunca pensei por um segundo / Que minha voz estava em sua cabeça.”

Allie X y Empress Of están teniendo dos lunes completamente diferentes. Conectando a través de Zoom desde el rural Canadá, Allie, cuyo verdadero nombre es Alexandra Hughes—que ahora reside en Los Ángeles, pero ha regresado a su país natal para unas vacaciones de verano—se sienta en una tumbona con la espléndida serenidad bucólica de un lago bordeado de bosque tras ella. Mientras tanto, Lorely Rodriguez, la nativa de Los Ángeles detrás de Empress Of, está en Londres, donde son las 10 p.m. en un fin de semana de bank holiday, y ha vuelto al apartamento que está alquilando después de un gran día de baile en el legendario Notting Hill Carnival. “Lo siento, he tomado algunos Aperol spritzes,” dice con una sonrisa.

Aunque ambas músicas son camaleónicas en el pop, sus más recientes discos también son un estudio en contrastes. Girl With No Face de Hughes, lanzado en febrero, es una impresionante y teatral porción de perfección synth-pop de los ’80, producida en su totalidad por Hughes. En cambio, For Your Consideration de Rodriguez, lanzado en marzo, amplió el baile-pop con influencia latina y etérea de sus lanzamientos previos I’m Your Empress Of y Save Me para convertirse en su álbum más seguro hasta la fecha. Así que fue algo sorprendente que las dos se unieran para una reimaginación del destacado tema del álbum de Hughes, “Galina,” una peculiar oda a una mentora femenina mayor que misteriosamente desaparece de la vida de Hughes. (Resulta que la inspiración más literal fue una anciana rusa que trabajaba en una clínica de piel y creó una loción a medida que curó el eczema de Hughes: después de retirarse, Hughes no pudo localizarla para obtener la receta. “Básicamente, Allie me llamó y fue como, ‘Tengo esta canción sobre el eczema, y siento que necesitas estar en ella,’” bromea Rodriguez. “Y yo estaba como, ‘Está bien. Punto. Vamos.’”)