As we get older, it is unavoidable to yearn a little for one’s lost youth: a time when we truly felt that possibilities were boundless and opportunities exciting. For most of us, this relates to feelings of regret, for chances missed and time lost. But what if we literally had had no youth, so to speak? Such was the fate of Christopher Owens, the chief lyricist of Girls. Born into the Children of God cult, he spent his “pretty hellish” (his words) childhood dragged from place to place, being shielded from the outside world until he escaped at the age of sixteen.
It is understandable, then, that Album contains such unabashed yearning for a childhood stolen, such vehement imploring for one to take advantage of every chance to have some fun and enjoy life: the record is at once life-affirming and achingly tragic, exuberant and introverted. The bounding rhythm of opening track ‘Lust for Life’ runs against the lyrics, which are imbued with a sense of loss and failure: “Oh, I wish I had a boyfriend/I wish I had a loving man in my life/I wish I had a father/Maybe then I would have turned out right/But now I’m just crazy and totally mad/Now I’m just crazy and fucked in the head”. But any sad sentiment is soon washed away in a wave of off-hand vivacity: “I wish I had a suntan/I wish I had a pizza and a bottle of wine/I wish I had a beach house”. In short, Album – like the best pop music – reflects the peaks and troughs of the human condition.
Their sound is very much steeped in classic fifties surf-pop; all trebly guitars and crisp drums. But what defines Girls’ music, beyond its lyrical quality, is Owens’ voice and Chet ‘JR’ White’s willingness to experiment sonically. As natives of San Francisco, their west coast leanings are obvious. But their style is both classic and intensely modern, with elements of indie-pop and shoegaze lurking amidst the compositions. Everything hinges on Owens’ delivery: he sells every lyric, keeping the band from slipping into pastiche, as lyrics like “I don’t want to cry my whole life though/I want to do some laughing too/So come on, come on, come on, come on and laugh with me” so easily could. Owens manages to deliver sincere pleas and entreating gestures, as opposed to tweeness for twees sake.
This is genuinely one of the most rewarding, enjoyable debut albums in recent memory; a thoroughly modern distillation of life, love and regret. Girls’ Album is boundless and exciting, pulling off one of the most difficult tricks in art: leaving the listener lamenting at the end and yearning for more.