Poppy - Flux

CLUTCHING AN IDENTITY FINALLY ABLE TO BE HELD

After a strange, manufactured start to her career, Poppy has effortlessly transitioned out of meme and into stardom. Even last year's I Disagree, which I enjoyed a great deal, held onto reactionary impulses aimed at shocking and awing ('BLOODMONEY,' 'Concrete'). Flux features no such ploys, equip with shredding guitar licks, instantly-plucky hooks, and tasteful Screamo. A compliment I never thought I'd give. Though the highs never reach those aforementioned moments of whiplash, Flux's terse nine tracks maintain a level of quality one could rarely expect from Poppy circa 2017.

That said, the one thing Flux lacks is originality. With her conscious abandonment of raised eyebrow gauche, Poppy falls into the laps of numerous predecessors, both those that clearly defined her childhood, and contemporaries still making music alongside her. The most prominent of the latter has to be Wolf Alice, as their brand of schizophrenic Alternative Rock appears in heavy doses on tracks like 'Hysteria' and 'Never Find My Place.' Poppy assumes the role of Ellie Rowsell, distinguishing herself through the (thankfully) distanced Screamo climaxing at each song's end. It's that soft-hard duality, balancing on a high wire, persuaded by Alternative Rock on one side and Dream Pop on the other. Speaking on the latter genre, Beach House even emerge, though tenuously, on 'As Strange As It Seems,' with Poppy's drawn-out echoes bearing similarity to Victoria Legrand as the droning guitars and dirge of synthesizers recall the band's Depression Cherry / Thank Your Lucky Stars era. Lastly, the technical Math Rock of 'On The Level' bring about comparisons to Pom Poko, though it's safe to say Poppy sounds nothing like Ragnhild Jamtveit and her baby doll vocals.

Though originality isn't in the cards, Poppy can be forgiven off quality alone. None of these songs stumble, apart from the L7-esque Riot Grrrl of 'Lessen The Damage.' 'So Mean' and 'Her' are instant Pop hits, with lovable choruses that recall Sleater-Kinney at their most accessible. One prances around a sarcastic playground as the other embellishes conventionality through Garage Rock restlessness. Interestingly enough, they work perfectly as a pair, as the lyrics recall Poppy's abrogating persona and the self-awareness she carries with it. As a whole, Flux is an undeniable maverick of precision and playfulness. At just 32 minutes, her exaggerated anger never lingers or falls stale. Most impressive of all? Poppy's ability to arouse enjoyment from the Skate Punk mythos of Avril Lavigne and early 2000's Emo. Now that's an achievement.