Grace Ives - Girlfriend Review
On Girlfriend, Grace Ives pushes beyond bedroom pop into something bigger, brighter and more emotionally raw.
Grace Ives has spent the last decade refining a sound that balances intimacy with restless electronic energy. On Girlfriend, the Brooklyn artist pushes that balance further than ever, trading the lo-fi edges of her early bedroom pop for something brighter, sharper and more ambitious. It was her sophomore album, Janky Star, released in 2022, that brought her to the forefront of the indie-pop space. There, Ives broached the topic of addiction in a music industry where drinking is built into the culture.
Over the years, Ives’ connection to her own art and expression has clearly strengthened: her latest album, Girlfriend, feels like an exploration of this journey, but by no means an end. Collaborating on production with Ariel Rechtshaid (Sky Ferreira, Charli XCX) and John DeBold (Dora Jar, Dijon) brings a clean and striking effect to the album, which is confessional and at times euphoric, like a meeting of Lorde with Emma Louise and Flume. Ives is more removed from her bedroom-pop roots than before, but ever synth-laden, with glassy layering building up to dazzling releases of emotion.
The Brooklyn-raised musician is still based in New York, but begins Girlfriend with an ode to California’s golden sun and open roads. She sets the tone of optimism on the ambient and expectant first track, ‘Now I’m’, creating a sense of peace, though it doesn’t last throughout the album. There’s a gentle tweeness to the opener with its acoustic fingerpicking and breathy vocals, as Ives repeats the line “it’s all love”, as though a weight’s been lifted from her shoulders. ‘Avalanche’ follows up and forces some rasp into the sound, bringing us back down to Earth with Ives’ characteristic reverb and frantic electronica. She walks the line between keeping a tight grip on the chaos and letting it consume her.
This intensity grows throughout the album; ‘My Man’ is ballad-esque electronic catharsis, giving in to the inevitable crescendo that follows self-moderation. “Every single guy I meet completes me,” sings Ives, as she extrapolates heartbreak onto her relationship patterns, lamenting obsessive love. The song’s disbelief at its own freneticism sees it ending on piano and strings, tactile and delicate. Ives’ near-whisper trembles on ‘Drink Up’, heatedly self-chastising before breaking into an angelic bridge, then pulling back to a slicker beat that feels somewhat like resolution. In this way, the song is tossed through as many states as its singer, who harnesses a common duality: is the song about a lover, or the industry itself? It’s a more manic moment on the album that goes on to slow down, unfurl from its own tension and lead into the final act of the record.
With fervent vocals and a melody like a digitised Born to Die-era Del Rey, if this album is about recovering from disconnect, ‘Fire 2’ is a definitive turning point. It leans into a techno edge, with a rise and fall that evokes elements of Baroque pop. Much like the rest of the album, here Ives’ voice has a desperation, as though she’s trying to force the confession out before restraint gets the better of her. Standout track ‘What If’ is a new leaf anthem with a classic indie edge, giving way to tremolo-heavy ‘Garden’, whose almost natal breathing epitomises the album’s sense of rebirth (“I get the feeling that it’s over now”). Here, the ambitiousness of the project is evident, its punchiness a far cry from Ives’ popular track ‘Babyyy’, released on debut EP, Really Hot, in 2016, but maintaining its intimacy.
The collection is rounded up perfectly with the strong single ‘Stupid Bitches’. Triumphant, shimmering electronics reminisce on the opening track’s lightness but with a slightly harsher angle, for a full circle moment. It’s a charged and punchy song that this album will likely be remembered for. The lasting sentiment is resounding: to have healed through something is not to be unchanged, but lightness is still possible, as Ives refrains over and over, “Doesn’t hurt me anymore”.
Girlfriend may be in part defined by its reflective, even sad moments, but overall it’s a hopeful record: perfectly timed for days of bluer skies and bright sunshine that still come with a kick of stark cold. It’s an unselfconscious celebration of what Ives can do, bolder and more defined than previous releases. As a collection, the songs feel like lucidity, coming into focus after a period of chronic, overwhelming instability. It’s almost as though Ives is flammable, fit to blaze at the smallest flame, and this album is definitely not short of sparks.
Grace Ives is due to embark on a headline tour across North America and Europe this summer, coming to London’s Village Underground on the 16th of June.