Nessa Barrett
Hell Is A Teenage Girl
3.5 out of 5 stars
Videos by American Songwriter
It might be a man’s world, sings the youthful, keenly dark songwriter Nessa Barrett, but I’ll watch it burn. Indeed, the line encompasses Barrett’s view of the world on her new EP, Hell Is A Teenage Girl, out today. Told she was less than but believing (knowing) she is so much more, Barrett will blow a kiss and light the fatal match in one fluid motion.
Today, the globe needs people like the 20-year-old New Jersey-born Barrett. Artists—women—who know the way of the world and who aren’t afraid to tear it down. The reason is because, paired with her snarl, is natural creativity woven into her sonic soul. Barrett wants to rearrange, not just destroy. But to start again is imperative.
The artist’s new EP begins with the brooding, almost Wednesday Adams-esque titular track, followed by the mournful, scornful “The One That Should’ve Got Away.” The mood of the record shifts a bit on the next song. Dubbed a song full of “break-up” tracks, the third song, “Lie,” is a balloon filled with a bit more loving sentiment. Yes, there is remorse, but there is also adoration. Yet, in the end, Barrett offers her twist, You can tell her that you love her / as long as it’s a lie.
One must wonder: where does Barrett get these scarred emotions and feelings? Regardless of the answer, she certainly feels them deeply and honestly, evidenced by this new 8-song record, which she only announced earlier this week.
In a previous interview with American Songwriter, Barrett said, “I like to sing about things people relate to but don’t necessarily want to admit.” Well, since we all know heartache and heartbreak, then her admissions on Hell Is A Teenage Girl is a series of messages in bottles. But it’s not Barrett’s style to toss them in the ocean from the shore. Instead, she’d probably drop them from a propeller plane, so that they’d shatter so brilliantly.
Barrett’s EP continues with the fourth track, “Plane to Paris,” which resembles the best of Lana Del Rey—spare piano, honest performance. Admissions of fear, doubt, wondering if death is around the corner in this plane, this “Doomsday Comet.” All I can think of is you, Barrett sings, almost weeping. The song ends with the idea that, well, the plane is going down, too.
The second half of the album opens with “Heartbreak in the Hamptons,” which offers a side of Barrett not yet seen on the record. Here, she channels the straight-to-your-veins-vibe of The Weeknd. She knows what it’s like to walk into an after-hours club at 4 a..m., risk a million dollars and win it back off some Wall Street jerk. But then her heart will still hurt. Such is life.
On “American Jesus,” Barrett begins by describing her object of affection, complete with Green eyes that look like sex. She continues, You know you’re my weakness, American Jesus. Finally, we know what someone so powerful wants. Barrett wants Mr. American Jesus to make a Saint out of a whore. Following that number, Barrett unleashes “Motel Whore,” a song with a story you could partially guess but also need to hear in full. Tell me I’m more, she sings, I promise I’m more.
The album concludes with the motorized “BANG BANG!” which illustrates the best of artists like K.Flay—acerbic lyricists with flare and flame. I’ve got intrusive thoughts, says Barrett, citing clinical language, warning and endearing. As is her want.
Indeed, if there is a criticism of the album, which displays unique lyrics and an incisive tone and spirit, it’s that it too closely participates in what’s become generic pop music. But while Barrett does that, she also often makes the sounds her own. In the end, the song, album, and artist, as one, pushes you and pushes you with a bouncy, driving tune. So much so that you want more.
And that’s the point.
Photo Andrew Donoho / Warner Records
