The Philadelphia band returns as a three-piece on a pandemic-era EP that introduces subtle shifts in sound and structure. It’s their first release that’s as tender as it is tough.
When Mannequin Pussy released their excellent third record Patience in the summer of 2019, they were hardly prepared to take its title so literally. After years of slowly building a fanbase off the crackling energy of their first two albums, the Philadelphia punks had signed to a new label, Epitaph, and released their most clear-eyed, expansive record to date. Critics lauded it as their breakthrough; there were Coachella dates and a second round of touring set for 2020. But then, of course, their plans were put on hold.
For a band rooted in the mutual catharsis of screaming to a live audience, the idea of remote concerts seemed antithetical. “Livestreaming shows feels really fucking lame to me. I don’t want to do a performance for a computer,” frontwoman Missy Dabice said at the time. Instead, the band waited until summer to record a few sessions in person with Patience producer Will Yip (and without founding member Thanasi Paul, who recently left the band). The resulting EP, Perfect, continues the sophistication of its immediate predecessor while introducing subtle shifts in sound and structure. Though capturing the full venom of Dabice’s screams required a proper studio, Perfect is the first Mannequin Pussy release that’s as tender as it is tough.
That range is most apparent on “Control,” a dialogue between id and ego that’s keenly aware of the balance between an explosive refrain and the tension of its build-up. It manifests not only in the contrast between Dabice’s quietest vocals and the crash of Kaleen Reading’s drums, but in lyrical content: Verses vacillate between reluctant acceptance of reality and the total entropy simmering beneath. The only real sense of control, Dabice suggests, is the freedom to lose it entirely.
Perfect makes brief yet ambitious departures from their previous sound, introducing bassist Colin “Bear” Regisford as a co-lead vocalist. Mannequin Pussy is undeniably a politically motivated band, but “Pigs Is Pigs,” written by Regisford about his outrage and fear of police violence as a Black man in America, marks the first explicitly political statement in their music. “It’s fucked!” he spits, his urgency palpable over charged guitar riffs. It’s a wholly new sound that already feels natural, reinforcing that this band is about energy and vehemence as much as Dabice’s pitched yelps.
Mannequin Pussy thrives on disrupting traditional hierarchies—it’s possible, their music argues, to be bloodthirsty one minute and crave intimacy the next, even to contain both feelings at once. But rather than attempt to marry these opposites in the span of a song, as on Patience, they play out in two different modes: On “Perfect,” a bratty, gnarled, “happy slut bad-bitch” ripper, Dabice demands to be called beautiful until the idea itself seems poisoned. It’s immediately followed by “To Lose You,” a bright jangle-pop anthem about missing a lover that reveals a far softer side. The contrasts play against each other without ever quite reaching the transcendence of synthesis, but still sum to a nuanced portrait.
In a first for the band, Perfect ends almost as quietly as it begins. If “Darling” sounds like a new direction, it derives its melancholy from the past: Dabice first wrote it five years ago, reworking it in the studio at the suggestion of the band. Yip programmed the drums, while Dabice added a layer of shimmering synths. Relaxing their posture as never before, they unspool into languid guitar and featherlight vocals. It’s like a lullaby after a nightmare, a weightless feat for notorious heavy hitters. After a year of unplanned hibernation, Mannequin Pussy have emerged less precious about their roots and eager to grow new branches.
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