Seattle musician Stella Lovell pulls no punches in her debut EP. Although I admit even calling this a debut feels slightly misleading, Lovell composes songs that feel lived in and well-seasoned, suggesting a musician that is anything but new. The sound recalls artists like Lydia Loveless and Karly Hartzman, leaning further into the rock elements than the twangy Americana of the Midwest. Still, it is no small feat that the artist fits right into this star-studded lineup of female singer-songwriters.
On first listen, it is perhaps the vocal command that is most striking. This is an artist in complete control of her voice–its textures, fault lines, and timbre. As she sings, “Nobody’s evil in the eyes of somebody new,” from the first track, “Breathe,” the vocal lines warp the melody into a brassy amalgamation that is entirely her own. The result is a propulsive opener that sets the stage for a well-defined and compelling indie rock aesthetic.
The second track, “Give It Up,” begins with muted guitars that form the backbone of the song. Incisive lyrics reveal a writer’s keen eye for detail, as Lovell describes clenched teeth and “picking the skin off the corners of … thumbs.” These visceral images ground some of the more abstract motifs in the song, in which love appears to leave one utterly empty. By contrast, “Delicate” brings a touch of dream pop to the EP. It is perhaps my favorite song on the record, one that appeals to the listener: “Say something delicate to me/ Let the words spill past the tips of your teeth.” In this tune, the artist comes closest to the folk-tinged pop of musicians like Tomberlin as well. Never straying far from the indie rock center of this record, Lovell finds plenty of ways to incorporate other influences and styles while maintaining her unique aesthetic.
“Get Away” returns to the hook-laced rock that serves as a through line throughout the album. This single is a radio-ready banger, one that should appeal to just about any listener. She sings, “Yeah, love makes us stupid/ But don’t be confused when I say I’m leaving.” It reads like a breakup song best heard in the car at max volume with the windows rolled down.
The final song, “Lonely,” comes closest to the Americana-infused work of a band like Wednesday. If the previous track chronicles the end of a relationship, then this one mixes in complicated notes of grief: “I still sleep six feet from your grave/ I guess I’m staying lonely.” Like many (see all?) musicians before her, Lovell writes about relationships, but she brings a knack for the well-turned phrase and a writer’s penchant for humanizing detail to the composition. Perhaps more importantly, she brings karaoke-ready hooks and an infectious musicality to each of these finely-drawn compositions. Check it out through the link below.
Written by SilenceKid
