This piece was originally published for Tastemakers Music Magazine.
While countless stars have recently leaned into the quiet, reflective bedroom pop that has defined pandemic isolation, it’s clear that Remi Wolf would much rather blow the bedroom door off and let some color splatter the walls. Packed to the brim with ‘90s candy-raver instrumentals, harmony-layered vocals, groovy guitar riffs, a zany assortment of sound effects, and glimpses of authenticity wrapped in cartoonish humor, Wolf’s debut album, Juno, makes clear that she is ready to dance away her problems. It’s an infectiously fun, sometimes scatterbrained, and always soulful celebration of existence, sobriety, and self.
The most dependable thing about the hook-filled record is Wolf’s creative unexpectedness, both as a person and in her art. Whiplashes in verse-chorus-bridge structure are lined with playful sonic experimentation, whether it be a dolphin’s chirp, the ding of a Slack notification, sleigh bells, shattering glass, a random southern accent, the sound of a guillotine chop, or an almost minute-long monologue in a toddler’s voice about getting lost at the grocery store. Though there is clearly a method to Wolf’s madness, with her outlandish sounds precisely paired with her lyrics and compositions, listeners are left never knowing what they’ll hear next. They are instead encouraged to embrace the full-tilt whimsy and chaos in every second or be left stumbling in the streets of Los Feliz—which Wolf makes a point to note has no Chuck-E-Cheese.
Silly, earnest references like this one in “Quiet On Set” pepper the album, much like her sound bites. Wolf’s songwriting is bizarrely relatable and so overtly born of internet-age humor. This is evident in lyrical vignettes like fighting Conor McGregor, idealizing villains like Cruella de Vil, watching Euphoria and Criminal Minds, debating ordering PostMates, and joking about “an orgy in Five Guys with five guys” (obviously followed by a tongue-in-cheek innuendo about having “never seen more nuts in her life”). While not every artist could pull this juvenility off, Wolf has an endearing ability to translate her inner chaos into lyric, where anything goes and no lewd rhyme is too bold.
Though the humor adds personality to Juno (and Wolf has plenty to spare), the record truly shines in the rare moments where she allows herself to be vulnerable. “I want you to dance, so it ends up coming out sounding probably a little more cheerful than the actual content of the songs,” she explains about the dichotomy between her bombastic musical style and her gritty, honest themes. And while the album thoughtfully displays a young artist broken down by the industry and personal struggles, there are moments where Wolf could lean more into this radical vulnerability without immediately stamping over it with another gag or quip.
The opener, “Liquor Store,” as buoyant as it seems on first listen, conveys this exact dissonance with a punch. Seemingly balanced on raw nerves and fueled by an alcohol-induced breakdown, it tackles Wolf’s struggles with sobriety, which is a recurring theme of the album: “Cause I always want more walking into the liquor store.” Other introspective themes include examining the security of family life (“Anthony Kiedis”), tackling obsessive dreams of fame (“Wyd”), self-indulging in toxic social environments (“Guerrilla”), and laying down in the shower over a crushingly complex relationship (“Front Tooth”).
Juno is not only a natural continuation of Wolf’s work thus far, but a glimmering debut album, elevated to a level of self-confidence in her eccentric production and honest lyrics through uncompromising humor that has yet to be seen from the artist. She not only knows what music she wants to make, but fully throws herself into the wackiness and leaves listeners not just craving, but practically begging for more of whatever the musical version of “escargot, good blow, and cordon bleu” is.
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