It may draw on the chaos of her clubbing days, which serve as the album's primary setting, but its dozen tracks are far from messy. The Croydon-born singer/songwriter sticks to a consistent palette of synth-pop, pop-rock, and what lies in between, but with elements of dissonance that provide the dreamlike touch that sets apart.
First track “One song away from crying” sets the tone for the record, with Chinouriri’s delicate voice declaring “I’ve never looked better and I’ve never felt worse” atop ‘80s dance beats. Here, and across the rest of the album, her breathy, siren-like vocals are situated high in the mix, making the songs seem almost like fading memories, or recovered from lost media.
Focus track “Pretty Girls” delivers another bittersweet party song, while “Baby steps” and “Favourite desperation” introduce mid-tempo pop-rock that feels deliciously sunny but keeps the lyrical themes of doubt, dissatisfaction, and sorrow.
In “AAAHHH!!!”, Chinouriri harbours both love and loathing for an unnamed beau, using catchy handclaps to create a cheerful contrast with the anguished lyrics of the post-chorus hooks; true to its title, the song culminates in frustrated screams as the electric guitars rip.
Toxic romance takes centre stage again a few songs down; in “Make believe”, another standout tune, she asks bluntly, “Am I banging a loser? Is it too late for the future?” Hefty rumbles of distorted bass accentuate the looming emotional disaster: “At the end of the night, it’s tears with nothing to say.”
The loneliness on extends beyond looking for attraction on the dancefloor. Album highlight “Broken chair” oscillates between stripped-down vocals over a chiptune bassline, where Chinouriri’s tender vibrato is especially affecting, and peppy dance-pop sections with a chorus of voices drunkenly wondering where their friends are, trying to ignore the misery bubbling deep within.
The album doesn't land on a neat ending, either. By virtue of its existence, we know that Chinouriri survived it all, but allows us to inhabit the tumult and despair of those young years regardless. Penultimate track “The good fight” incorporates a jumble of muffled and unintelligible chatter, adeptly conveying the sensation of overwhelming social anxiety when you’re supposed to be dancing the night away, while “Crash the car”, the album’s shoegaze-y conclusion, asks painful questions without offering any feelgood answers.
"Will we break our hearts?" she asks, and no doubt the answer was yes. But some damn fine art came out of it.