by Shea Roney (@uglyhug_)
“Do it all for small mementos,” Chicago singer-guitarist Miranda Winters sings on “Forsythia,” the opening track of Lawn Girl, and the first album under her new moniker Mandy. Winters has been a fixture of Chicago’s underground scene ever since her co-founded noise-rock group Melkbelly turned basements and clubs into sweaty communions of raw energy and pop-melodic mobility, but even before that she was writing gripping and tender alt-pop songs that stand the test of time. Now with a new project to focus on as well as the trials of becoming a parent, Lawn Girl plays beginning to end so strategically with youthful nostalgia as Winters writes through the lens of adulthood.
When writing Lawn Girl, Winters wanted to further explore her relationship within the historic Chicago music scene, more specifically with the relationship of women that have for so long built it up. Championing the idea of femininity, Winters added drummer Wendy Zeldin (Pussy Foot), bassist Lizz Smith (Bruised) and guitarist Linda Sherman (Not For You) to make Mandy into something undeniably invigorating. With these new players, a fuller sound and depth in the production, Lawn Girl feels fresh in its delivery yet familiar at the heart of Winters’ charming and nostalgic song writing that has made her a beloved household name in Chicago and beyond.
Lush distortion sits heavily on the shoulders of “Forsythia” as Winters sets in route the exhilaration to rebuild herself. There are many moments that feel pleased to be captured in the authenticity of Winter’s past projects, harnessing that same rebel energy from her teenage obsessions, but with the hindsight of years in between. The lively single “High School Boyfriend” plays with giddy young love as it gets caught up in the midst of cheeky, spinning guitar riffs. “Acid Base” and “Ms Appear” feel indebted to that low and booming distortion before being brushed away with slick and slight guitar voicings, adding distance between Winters’ new and matured sonic explorations.
Although she has written and released as a solo artist before, Winters uses Mandy to more formally approach her authentic self, utilizing what she knows best to redefine where she is now. This concept can be heard in the repurposed songs that have been previously released, revitalized to Winters’ matured spirit. Taken from a tape she put out back in 2018 called Xobeci, What Grows Here?, the tracks “Mickey’s Dead Stuff” and “A Series of Small Explosions” feel stronger and more on the nose in this notable lens of hindsight. “All your pets died when you started to caddy” still lands as a devastating yet humorous line that feels more iconic the more Winters plays with it.
The bearing weight of distorted elevations and pop hook landings is one thing, but Lawn Girl feels most tender and reflective on some of the more raw and airy productions. The formidable track, “Elder Fire” relishes in its simplicity as Winters’ timeline ebbs and flows in a haze of disarmament. In its distant lo-fi tracking, the song gets lost in a story of youthful friends, as she looks back on it with both heartfelt and despondent favor. Even the cover of Jimmy Web’s, “Now That I’m a Woman” feels more impactful when dispersed amongst the cricket’s communal song in the back of the track as Winters soft voice plays with realization. The accompanying music video is a one-take shot of Winters playing the song to a backyard fire. While she plays, her young daughter struggles to set up a folding chair next to her, placing Winter in the setting of her present life.
Lawn Girl isn’t so much longing for youth, as it is cherishing the vital parts that make up what Mandy is supposed to represent. These mementos become vital to Winters, restructuring her place in the world with everything that she now knows. Caught up in the physicality of storytelling, not only is it a way to structure her memories, but also used to measure time itself. As for the use of the black and white photo of her mom playing field hockey that graces the cover, there is a perseverance of time that Winters holds close to the heart of Lawn Girl.