by Danny Cooper
“In the pits of hell someone is happy / And in the heavens above some still don't know how to be” sings Lauren Early on “Candy Beer Walking Dream.” The LA indie rocker’s debut Don’t Take My Dream Away is an album full of contradictions - everything is bittersweet, she’s both a Good Girl and a Bad Boy. Over thirteen guitar driven tracks, Early dissects crumbling relationships, all-consuming crushes, and dreams deferred with the wisdom only experience can bring. Early approaches but avoids melodrama, working through big feelings but never getting fatalistic. She has an appreciation for vulnerability, recognizing that humiliation is excruciating, but essential. She ends the chorus of “Candy Beer Walking Dream” sounding worn-out yet hopeful, muttering “This life is pretty great I really do think.”
Early has spent years touring with bands like Girlpool and Surf Curse. Here, she steps out into the spotlight with something uniquely hers. Her sonic palette is the brash, raw sounds of 90s indie rock. Many artists mining this era for inspiration fall trap to making the sound the end goal, rather than the tool for what they want to say with their music. For Early, the unpolished, energetic music she takes inspiration from (Hole, The Smashing Pumpkins) is the perfect vehicle for unwinding the pain and uncertainty of early adulthood.
On lead single “Good Girl Bad Boy,” Early tackles an intoxicating yet toxic relationship, asking “Is this a romance or a horror?” before giving into the thrill towards the end of the track, channeling Liz Phair’s “Flower” as she monotones “Every time my brain slows down / I just want you around.” Her voice fits seamlessly into the sound, scratching just the right itch. It’s the most distinctive thing about her music - like the candy beer she sings about, it’s coarse and bitter, yet emotive and slyly sweet the longer you sit with it. It’s a bit like Snail Mail or Sorry’s Asha Lorenz, never quite in key but all the more moving for it.
Though anchored by 90s indie rock, the record is unafraid to experiment – a poppy drum machine bounces around “Good Girl Bad Boy” and “Twisted” and strings soften “Tomorrow” and “Never Knows Best.” Halfway through the title track, a frayed, shimmering guitar riff right off The Strokes’ Is This It swells in. Wavves’ lo-fi surf rock can be heard throughout – whether through cooing, animalistic backing vocals on the outro of “Tomorrow” or the bratty delivery of “again, again, again” on “Twisted.”
Early describes the period of her life the album was borne from as brutal, one of upheaval. She’s writing from a time where stabilizing beliefs became wobbly, where everything that was black and white turned gray. Existential questions emerge – what are you supposed to do with your life? The album is her forging through the muck, looking for meaning. On “Burnout,” she sings “pick something and try” - and the album is just that. She’s accepted her desires and has worked up the courage to chase them.
Early maintains a sharp lyrical eye throughout the record. She cleverly thanks her hardship on the slow-marching “Just Tell Me,” singing “I’m a catch, but I thank the batter.” She flirts with banality on “Good Girl Bad Boy,” dropping “incel,” “problematic,” and “ADD disorder” in quick succession, but pulls it off, the lyrics reading like a patchwork of an oversaturated life online rather than buzzwordy. On “A Good Story,” she embraces the chaos of her life, channeling Joan Didion’s evergreen quote “We tell ourselves in order to live,” with the lyrics “Coming up with a good story / bending the truth so you don’t worry / everything is fine / if you still believe.”
Highlight “Never Knows Best” opens with the lyrics "You lick the dirt / And find you like the taste of worms.” It’s a bittersweet sentiment - the things that bring joy and bring pain are often indecipherable. The sound reflects this idea. The song’s built around harsh textures - distorted vocals, heavy feedback, and grungy riffs - but gentle strings cut though the mix before things come to a head. Throughout the record, Early shows restraint - pushing her songs almost to their breaking point, but never giving into catharsis.
“Tomorrow” is similarly tense. She strums a simple chord progression that gets just a little off kilter as the song builds. It’s an unsettling feeling, like you’re on the edge of a bad trip. The song builds to Early belting “You don’t need to know how,” as thrashing guitars shift in and out of tune around her warbling voice. It’s a simple statement that feels like a revelation - the discomfort doesn’t pass, but the right mindset makes it easier to bear. It’s a key to the record - Don’t Take My Dream Away offers no clear answers but instead revels in uncertainty. Pain is inevitable, so you might as well make something out of it.