#po' girl | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aliendietcoke · 2 months ago

Text

for my girlies who struggle with binging

4K notes · View notes

angeliqueseraphine · 6 months ago

Text

5K notes · View notes

sinceileftyoublog · 1 year ago

Text

Allison Russell Album Review: The Returner

(Fantasy)

BY JORDAN MAINZER

On "Springtime", the first track on Allison Russell's second solo album The Returner, she admits she "used to think that I was doomed." If her debut Outside Child was about her journey to overcome abuse she suffered as a child, The Returner is a tribute to survivors relearning joy, and the complexity thereof. Russell's inherent hopefulness does not prevent moments of doubt from flourishing alongside mantras of self-worth; she therapeutically presents these raw feelings non-linearly, making The Returner a jaw-dropping manifestation of her struggle.

What's consistent throughout The Returner is that while despair and radical yearning often go hand-in-hand, the longevity of the latter can trump the oft-temporarily-incapacitating former. "So long / farewell / adieu adieu / to that tunnel I went through," Russell sings on "Springtime", marching forward with her clarinet in hand, the song eventually swelling with strings, firing keyboards, and funky drums. Fleeting feelings are treated as such: Her ask on the title track to "Throw me in the ocean and see if I can swim," atop wincing electric guitar, is quickly subsumed by declarations that "I'm worthy". "Shadowlands" starts with an all-timer of a first line, Russell singing, "I woke up from a goddamn nightmare / Just to find the house was on fire," though through deep breaths of strings and scratchy guitar, she stirringly proclaims, "We can't be broken."

Russell's words aren't platitudes, trying to convince herself she's okay when she's not. They're evidence of her emerging stronger. "Every scar and every bruise / They shine like blue Botswana jewels," she sings on "Snake Life". The Returner stands out when Russell dives deep into tenets of Black music. Outside Child fit aesthetically within previous Russell projects like Po' Girl, Birds of Chicago, and Our Native Daughters. Russell's sophomore record, co-produced by herself and dim star (the project of partner and fellow Birds of Chicago member JT Nero and Drew Lindsay), takes on gospel, funk, blues, Appalachian folk, and R&B. Hell, there's even an Outkast reference on "Demons", Russell imploring us to not let our inner hellhounds dominate us and instead relegate them "to the back of the bus." "Stay Right Here" is perhaps the best song on the album, building up with a post-punk drum beat and piano before Russell's vocals take a soulful turn. Not quite house, it could at least be an 80's club anthem if it had more bass. It's nonetheless a heartbreaking admission of Russell's tendency to dissociate as a child and sees her thinking about her own daughter and the weight of generational trauma. Russell's ultimate moment of overcoming, her dream that, "Wanna hear my daughter laughing / She can hear her daughter laughing / When we die, we'll die fighting," indeed recalls songs like "I Will Survive".

Towards the end of the album, Russell alludes to the process of songwriting as a means to conquer those aforementioned demons. On "Snake Life", she sings, "The bountiful Blackness / Weds that pregnant silence / And a song is born," one of the most concisely invigorating descriptions of creativity I've maybe ever heard in a song. And then there's a simple juxtaposition in the final track "Requiem", where she admits over scraping guitars that, "Bullets fly faster than mothers' lullabies." At first, the line seems like a litany, a mournful acknowledgement of the unfortunate power of violence. But then she makes a case for the slow burn: "Hope is a prairie fire." Something that can spawn new life in the wake of destruction is a fitting metaphor for Russell's artistry to date. Hope might be slower than the act of burning it all down, but its potential is greater than anything.