“What if Jesus himself ate my f------ snatch?”
This is just one of the many lines from punk rock act Mannequin Pussy’s most recent album “I Got Heaven” and is by no means alone in its raw vulgarity. This type of bold and unwavering confrontation is part of what defines Mannequin Pussy. Take the name, for starters. While the title of the band originated from an inside joke, it also accomplishes what lead singer Marice Dabice believes punk rock is meant to do: subvert and challenge the audience.
Starting off with just a guitarist/singer and drummer in 2010 before expanding to its current size, the Philadelphia rock band now consists of four members: bass player Colins “Bear” Regisford, percussionist Kaleen Reading, guitar and synth player Maxine Steen, and guitarist and lead vocalist Marisa Dabice. The group is most recognized for their third album, “Patience,” which includes hits “Drunk II” and “Fear/+/Desire.” Praised by publications such as Pitchfork for its balance between lyrical sensitivity and punishing hardcore rock, “Patience” was lauded as one of the best punk rock albums of 2019. Critics as well as audience members have eagerly awaited the group’s fourth studio album.
“I Got Heaven” is Mannequin Pussy’s answer. Released March 1, the 10-track album has once again brought the group widespread critical acclaim. This wasn’t the first time Mannequin Pussy released a tender yet bold punk rock album, but it’s the first time they pushed the extreme of both ends with such vulgarity, confidence and prodigious skill. It’s a mixture of agony and ecstasy; a living, breathing animal, overcome with lust, ferocity and confusion. This album is one of the great musical triumphs of the year.
“I went and walked myself / Like a dog without a leash / Now I’m growling at a stranger / I am biting at their knees,” lead singer Dabice roars into the mic for the opening of the album’s titular track. Yet, with the same abruptness, Dabice switches: “Oh, I got heaven / Inside of me / And oh (heaven) / I’m an angel / I was sent here to keep you company (heaven).” This interplay between growling, animalic imagery paired with the white halo of an innocent cherub is not confined within the one track, but is utilized constantly as Mannequin Pussy manipulates contradiction and expectation in both their songwriting and music composition.
Indeed, Mannequin Pussy shocks and arouses by swinging from coquettish demurity to raucous, primitive lust in this album. Here, femininity is angst, anger, romance and desire; there is no line that separates chastity and debauchery. “I’m such a romantic / I’m such a f------ tease,” Dabice coos in “Loud Bark,” “I keep you in my sugar and you eat it on your knees.” At the same time, the sound of her voice itself sways back and forth from gentle and breathy to the raw, animalic panting of a dog. “I am a loud bark / Deep bite / A loud bark / Deep bite,” Dabice sings, her voice transforming into a raw, guttural shouting as she says the lines over and over to rhythmic climax.
“OK? OK! OK? OK!” is arguably the most punk-forward track on the album. The lyrics are brattish, flippant and fun: “You want a slice of heaven / You know what I want / You think this p-- --’s easy / You're gonna have to / Beg / And heel / And learn.” Despite its reliance on arduous vocals provided by Regisford and Dabice, the band’s ability to play with tempo and tone keeps the song from slipping into the trap of anonymous, teenage-cymbal-crashing noise.
As quickly as the band breaks into distorted guitar riffs and guttural vocalism, they just as quickly lower into barely whispered lines that display a more naked vulnerability, timidity and resignation. “I Got Heaven” leans into bold punk rock with unwavering gusto and skill without forgoing musical diversity as lighter tracks such as “Softly,” break up the punishing batter of drums and electric guitar. Immediately following “OK? OK! OK? OK!”s roaring and enraged closing, Dabice begins the song with a whisper into the microphone: “Tell me softly / That you / You wanna know me.” The songwriting of “Softly” is more visibly reflective as Dabice’s voice strains painfully with something akin to wistfulness, resentment or regret: “You say come here / Promise me devotion / Never ending love/ I yearn to give you what you want / But I know that I will not.” In “I Don’t Know You,” Dabice grasps at an unnamed lover, evoking the confusion and pain as one realizes the interchangeability of ‘lover’ and ‘stranger.’ “There are three little words / That I wish I had said,” Dabice sings, her voice lightly bouncing off the syllables, “But I wouldn’t tell you / No, I couldn't tell you / I know a lot of things / I know a lot of things / But I don’t know you.”
“I Got Heaven” is confrontational and vulnerable, boarish yet ashamed. A triumphant blend of punk rock and pop, it is shockingly easy to listen to, while never falling victim to that fact.
