by Natalie Marlin (@NataliesNotInIt)
Three songs into forever music, Katie Dey briefly stops letting her vocals speak for her, and unleashes a shriek of ear-splitting noise. This tactic at the end of “no love for songs” is disarming to say the least, coming at the climax of a mostly bare, forlorn instrumental. It acts as a pivotal turning point for the album, the last gasp of the abrasion of hurt before Dey truly reconfigures her sound for the rest of the record.
forever music, Dey’s fifth proper solo release, sees the Melbourne experimental pop artist taking a bold new approach in her career. As her first fully self-released album, forever music sheds much of the vocal filtering and overlapping tracks that defined much of her earlier work, often feeling even more intimate than the already open-hearted art pop of records like solipsisters and mydata. In a statement about the album, Dey states, “I think it’s the most vulnerable and straightforward music I’ve ever made. My voice is frequently unfiltered and dry and I tried to keep the songwriting and production as efficient and minimal as possible.”
Even as forever music starts, with vocal processing and digitally distorted synths on opener “unfurl” as one expects from a Katie Dey album, it’s clear that this album is a shift for Dey. Part of this is apparent from how the vocals are integrated, even when run through a filter—closer to the center of the mix, the processing more minimal than on earlier albums, Katie’s voice clearer than before. Dey’s move in this direction allows certain refrains and sentiments to cut quicker and deeper than ever. For example, “unfurl” shifts its vocals’ melodic resolution from “stay strong let katie unfurl” to “stay strong my daughters unfurl,” turning a plea of self-preservation into a wish for communal endurance. On “real love,” Dey distorts her voice in sync with the blown-out chorus, lending her belting out “i want love that hurts in my skin” assertive vulnerability and giving the track’s climactic key change greater heft.
It’s where the album goes after the clamorous ending of “no love for songs” that truly sets forever music apart from the rest of Dey’s output. The arrangements become even more sparse than before. Dey’s vocals shed nearly all the digital processing placed on them earlier. On “fuckboy” and “sharp teeth,” the lack of effects on her vocals add even more to the bite in her lyricism, notably against oppressive systems that threaten trans wellbeing on the latter (“I can't take my medication anymore / my teeth still sharp tho”).
This sudden scaling back of the synthetic opens Dey’s approach up to some of the most unguarded and cathartic songs in her career during the album’s back half. “impossible” circles around a repeating refrain and Dey’s most minimal instrumentation to date, becoming a track where a desperate mantra of subsistence (“one more step / girls be valiant”) continually fights against the response to that plea: simply the word “impossible.” “equidistant” follows in the footsteps of Dey’s last album mydata, following its verses about mental illness amid a long-distance relationship with a gorgeously unfiltered piano coda. In the spare title track, Dey builds harmonized vocal overdubs against airy synth sustains to arrive at the bittersweet line “when eventually i'm gone / you can listen to this song.” That these words come after a refrain about being “over over over my limiter” and the entreatment “tremor just let me be” only lends the title “forever music” greater significance—imparting that even the name of the album represents the want to meaningfully connect and leave an enduring positive impact on others with what time you have in the face of adversity.
The urge to lean on interpersonal love and support in the midst of shared struggles is ultimately the main prevailing thread that emerges throughout forever music, clinging on through even the most impassioned renderings of vitriol and distress. As the aforementioned press release for the album notes, the album is about “the eternal power of music and genuine love between women… in defiance against all odds.” In other words, forever music is about how the bonds formed through affection and music can be a means to defy the hurt that threatens you at all turns. This desire for love emerges through the darkest corners of the album, such as how the desperate longing for contentment on “happy girl” arrives at the reconciliation “even in a world like this / I could still hold you / eventually you'd hold me too.” If one had to choose the most emblematic moment expressing this desire for love and care on forever music, it would likely be the sound of the chorus to “real love”—a torrent of cacophony distorting the clarity of the melody, but with Dey still singing over and over, “i want real love for us all.” Even when the world around remains daunting and hostile, that hope for warmth and tenderness won’t dwindle.
For this reason, the power of forever music—which, fittingly, is the same of Dey’s music as a whole—is that its existence serves to make those who listen to it feel less alone, just by virtue of hearing her speak to their common feelings. It’s as the title to album closer “rot with me” suggests: though we women may find ourselves breaking down from all that eats away at us, we don’t have to go it alone. Sometimes the comfort of another is enough to stave the pain of rotting.