Dependable indie rock stylings are Blondshell’s forte. Striving for that on their latest, self-titled release as they look for that shelter mentioned on Veronica Mars provides incredible bursts of alternative rock stylings. Nine tracks and a half hour later, everything changes for both the listener and the artist. Veronica Mars, the two-minute opener that ends with an explosive guitar piece filters in the engaging brevity of Blondshell and their craft. Debut pieces are a chance to cement a hopeful image, a necessary clamouring for meaning that can hold the attention of a listener. Blondshell has no trouble with that, an exciting collection of tracks, half of which are already out there as singles.
Three of those singles maintain a consistent build for Blondshell, and as that first third pushes through the eclectic range of themes Blondshell has, the narrative strands begin to cement themselves. Kiss City is as nice on its own as it is on the album, a saxophone-led touch of love and intimacy that feels both unique as a takedown of the topic and for Blondshell. Sabrina Teitelbaum’s lyrics are as relatable as they are independent, coursing through the everyday highs and lows as and when they appear. Maddening double bill Veronica Mars and Kiss City have their romantic addictions assessed on the tender and slower paces of percussion-led Olympus, a consolidation of feeling, even if those same emotions are lingering for all the wrong reasons. Blondshell has a depth to their range and it steers them clear of repetition.
Chimes of urgency open the not-so-revealing Salad, a jumble of caution and violence toward the turns of others. Teitelbaum continues that ever-present lyrical creativity, from poisonous titular dishes to the stones in the place of a heart. Pushing that reality blend, that feeling of something not quite in-check with reality being right there, the narrative drive of Salad is a real high for Blondshell. Turns of pacifism to powerful punches are stuck together with ever-consistent and always enjoyable guitar rushes, the impact they have from track to track gives Blondshell their unique core. Building from that time after time, the subtler joys of Joiner to the apparent harshness of Veronica Mars is a creative force to be reckoned with. Blondshell is keen to chart that even the independence of self-worth is sometimes not enough, the infectious Sepsis and its motivating guitar work underscoring the life-threatening comparisons of dependence on dickheads and overreactive immunity.
Lucid, freeing and articulate pieces of liberation mark Blondshell as an integral indie rock release. It steps up to the plate of what is expected of the genre at present, but the smart lyrical interplay and more than a few instrumental delicacies see Teitelbaum and company excel. All those moments on the road in Tarmac and the obvious connotations of album closer Dangerous would feel lifeless without the consistency Blondshell bring to the indie-rock table. They are as articulate in their influences of what came before as they are powering through with an eclectic, new experience. In just half an hour, Blondshell champions themselves, and those they relate to, offering up a convincing piece that will flourish with time.
