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Writer's pictureRedouane Dziri

Released August 2, 2019


6.5 / 10

 

Favorites

Alewife, Impossible, Softly, Sofia, White Flag, I Wouldn't Ask You


Least Favorites

Closer To You, North



Claire Cottrill’s debut LP opens with gratitude for a life she refuses to take for granted after thoughts of ending her life at 13 were stopped in their tracks before they came to fruition with the help of a friend. ‘Alewife’ announces a departure from the lo-fi bedroom-pop Claire went viral for under the moniker Clairo, and kicks off her debut co-written and -produced alongside Rostam Batmanglij, formerly from Vampire Weekend. The intimate record avoids grand ideas and pretense to accurately translate what goes on in the head of a young woman discovering herself as she enters her twenties. Its restraint, both in vocal delivery and production style, is a mark of someone that has already so much perspective on what they went through only a couple of years and even months prior - and manages to convey an impression of bare-bones lushness. Still, there is plenty of room for growth for Clairo, who can’t resist the temptation to bury herself under dense hazy layers of reverb and ambient blur at times to the detriment of clarity and a stronger affirmation of who she wants to be as an artist. Not a bad place to be for 20 year-old (at the time of the release) Claire.


“Immunity” finds Clairo yearning for reciprocation and understanding with a strong queer subtext. She seeks metaphorical guidance for the ‘North’ (star) as she describes an unrequited attraction. The song describes crushing on a friend and not wanting to risk losing the friendship for fear of rejection. The message is packaged under blurry layers of instrumentation, bogged down by repetitive instrumental loops and rendered flabby by lackluster vocals (her mumbled delivery is not the most appropriate conduit for emotion here). When we finally get to hear her more clearly on the bridge, there’s only the dread of the instrumentals coming back to overpower her on my mind. ‘Bags’ is brighter and more focused - and so is its lyrical setting. Clairo depicts a scene on a couch with another girl, full of tension and anticipation to see where things go, as seconds turn to hours waiting for signs of mutual attraction. The mark of a good songwriter, she manages to include a direct reference to Joni Mitchell’s “A Case of You” without sounding pedantic (perhaps especially because it almost sounds like she says “bitch” instead of “Mitchell” - oh, that’s just me?). Next, Clairo confesses her love to another girl on ’Softly’, again audibly worried the other party won’t reciprocate but also acknowledging it’s part of the game. This cut feels more like an R&B ballad than anything else on the record and seals the deal beautifully with a children choir as the sun sets. The trifecta wouldn’t be complete without outstanding ‘Sofia’. A cheeky wink to childhood crushes Sofia Coppola and Vergara, Clairo seizes the moment to address the difficulty of same-sex relationships in a society that still regards them as an anomaly more than part of the norm. There are few lyrics as relatable as “Sofia, know that you and I / Shouldn’t feel like a crime” for a fellow queer. There’s this notion of having to get over the overbearance of the finger-wagging heteronormative culture but also the common experience of being a fucking teenager - and a Gen Z one at that. ‘Sofia’ is also cheery and uptempo, unlike any of the other cuts on “Immunity” - but don’t expect Clairo to start doing single-handed vocal cartwheels nonetheless, that’s just not her style. She doesn’t have to do much to complement the Vampire Weekend reminiscent ellipsis and the snappy drums played by HAIM’s Danielle. The post-chorus glitchy instrumental also goes to show just how pervasive deconstructed club has become in many a genre.


Growing older is also Clairo’s path to accepting that she is her own’s surest bet when it comes to understanding and empathy. Although it might seem self-evident that no one could be more empathetic towards you than yourself, we’re taught and bombarded with so many self-loathing messages - why would you spend your money on products and entertainment if you already feel complete and content? - that this truth is not as trivial. In ‘Impossible’ she seems to falter briefly before picking herself up and resisting the temptation of going back to an ex. Again we hear crumbs of Vampire Weekend arpeggios and Danielle Haim at the drums, that, despite their mid-tempo cadence, don’t rush the track along the least. ‘White Flag’ introduces a more self-assured Clairo, holding out her hand to an ex (the same?) to repair broken bridges. In a very matter-of-fact fashion, she delivers the zinger “I was 15 when I first felt loneliness” and sweet Clairo turns Targaryen with the soft whispered warning: “But you know in small towns / What goes around comes back around”. Instead of recoiling from the mic - which is how she comes off on a couple of the tracks on here - she matches the assurance of the bouncy beat that accompanies her throughout.


"Immunity" is not only a story of questioning, yearning and longing - it’s also how Clairo responds and builds a shell of sorts to handle the unknown and let hardships drizzle like water off a duck’s back. The album is delightfully bookended by two sharp but subtle humorous moments. 'Alewife''s description of a near-suicidal attempt concludes with the defiantly amusing “Eight grade was never that tight” line. Easily missed by the inattentive ear - which will be overtaken by the dampened overdriven bass, the beautiful keys and the hazy ambience - it’s a little nugget in a soft expanse. The album’s final track is as hazy as its opener, this time reproducing a very real setting. Clairo was hospitalized for juvenile rheumatoid arthritis (au autoimmune disease whose onslaught also inspired much of the album and its title) and cared for by her boyfriend at the time. The first part of ‘I Wouldn’t Ask You’ mimics the haze of Clairo in her hospital bed and, shortly before entering its final victory lap, drops the dorkiest line, completely taking the unprepared listener by surprise: “Ice cold, baby, I’m ice cold / You’re the only one who could make me thaw”. Again, it’s not an in-your-face knock-knock joke but a touch of humor to alleviate a grave situation. The second half of the track ties back the theme of “immunity” in all its forms - through her autoimmune disease as well as developing a tougher skin and being ready to face the unknown - with lines that feel like they’re spoken to herself. Buried under layers of self-scrutiny, doubt and societal pressures, the real Claire rises to the surface to band together with the Claire presented to the world. They sing in unison “We could be so strong”, unknowingly manifesting a form of resilience we didn’t know we would all have to summon in the past year.


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