At this point it’s pretty clear we exist in a culture that fetishizes all things 90’s. We’re now far enough away from the decade that it can easily be reduced to a collection of cultural signifiers, whether its viral videos re-imagining modern TV shows as kitschy 90’s sitcoms or the prevalence of brightly coloured sportswear. Those cynical of this appropriation will no doubt find that the all too familiar granular, lo-fi VHS aesthetic of Bully’s single ‘Brain Freeze’, complete with fuzzed-out guitars and an over abundance of plaid shirts, will induce much eye-rolling. However it would be unfair to say Feels Like is a mere throwback, and that there’s nothing more to adopting the tropes of a previous generation of bands than trend jumping. In a world where the Internet means music and geographical specificity have become completely disconnected, the 90’s represents the cusp before everything became completely decentralised. Embracing the 90’s alternative rock scene could be a way to reclaim locality by harking back to a time that had more limitations and therefore music was forcibly rooted to a time and place. The Nashville scene that Bully has emerged from shows that, although still fairly anomalous, a music-centered sub-culture can still exist. Its music with a physicality and weight, meant to be experienced by real people in a real world.
2015 is certainly shaping up to be the year of the front woman. People such as Courtney Barratt and Waxahatchee’s Katie Hutchfield are coming out with some of the year’s best releases, writing raw and personal lyrics and fronting their own backing bands. Whilst Bully are technically a fully fledged band, much like the aforementioned artists this is really a one woman show, with lead singer and guitarist Alicia Bognanno basically the sole writer and even recording and engineering most of the album herself. These are Bognanno’s songs and the rest of the band is there primarily to play them.
Bognanno’s voice, which has a hoarseness that is full of imperfection and character, is undoubtedly the immediate strength of the record. On the excellent opener ‘I Remember’ it sounds like its about to give out before the song has even got going, perfectly capturing the frantic recollections of a relationship gone awry. But its also able to float through verses with a dreamy, cool insouciance, making it the perfect tool to accompany the loud / quiet / even louder formula that the album has pretty much nailed. The version of ‘Brainfreeze’ is significantly weaker than the version that appeared on last years ‘Milkman’ EP because it fails to adhere to this rule. Its sound may have been considerably beefed up but instead of the guitar tone going from a brittle verse into the crunchy chorus it remains sluggish throughout and Bognanno’s vocals are so far forward in the mix they sound adrift from the rest of the instruments. Apart from this minor setback however, the production throughout the album is admirably sparse and characterized by a dryness to remind you this is a bunch of musicians playing in a tiny room together. The huge grubby, dissonant riff in the chorus of ‘Trash’ demonstrates a perfect marriage of title and song, whilst in the verse of ‘Trying’ a offbeat guitar part is quickly offset by a hard-hitting chorus.
The lyrics largely address those regretful but formative moments of youth that is fodder for so many young bands. Images of “throwing up in your car” and Bognanno going home to “play guitar on my bed” are littered throughout the album and are likely to evoke equivalent memories in most listeners. ‘Picture’ seems to describe a typical adolescent brattish strop, with Bognanno being forced to look at a picture of herself in some capacity: “I hate it so much!” she screams, and you can almost hear her bedroom door being slammed shut. Hidden amongst the more bubblegum melodies however is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it darkness and anxiety that colours much of the lyrics. ‘‘Six’ finds Bognanno recalling the guilt of accidently breaking her younger sisters arm and when she breaks her own two years later, she confesses that “I know it didn’t make us even / so I slept on it for one whole night”. The choruses makes it clear this is a confession addressed to a current or potential lover – “I would never make you feel / the way that some people make me feel / for I wouldn’t do that to you”. The intensity of doubt and insecurity is much the same now as it was then. The past can’t be viewed from a distance, but only from the center of the whirlpool of hormones and emotion that existed when these moments were first experienced. There’s something inherently anxiety inducing about the difficulty Bagnanno has in trying to separate her past and present self, tapping into that foreboding sense you experience when in your twenties that maybe you haven’t grown up as much as you thought.
Bognanno has shown herself to be a promising and unique new voice, capable of a subtlety and complexity not apparent from a cursory glance. Feels Like is simultaneously much more than a pastiche piece but is also a testament to what can be achieved with some chunky power chords, clever dynamics and a big hook.
Louis Ormesher
