julie
My Anti-Aircraft Friend
ATLANTIC
ABOVE THE CURRENT
When julie released their first single “Flutter” back in 2020, their goal was to get at least a thousand listeners so the project wouldn’t flop. Instead of the thousand streams they hoped for, the LA-based band ended up racking up nearly 40 million on Spotify alone. It’s fair to say they got a little more than they bargained for, but the trio has been able to embrace the unanticipated spotlight. Now, their debut album My Anti-Aircraft Friend builds on the ethereal vocals and opaque instrumental backdrops explored on 2021’s breakout Pushing Daisies EP. They began working on the record right when COVID hit, but the pandemic didn’t stunt their progress. Instead, it allowed them to create an introductory project that encapsulates half a decade’s worth of change. They flit between the innocence and intensity of your late teens and the dystopian experience of entering your twenties while the world is in lockdown.
At a time when hearing the liberally applied term “shoegaze” makes you want to roll your eyes, julie proves they’re the real deal. It’s clear the trio did their homework when it comes to exploring ’90s influences and creating a blizzard of blissed-out soundscapes built upon their research. They’re not just another band with a pedal board—they create blindingly beautiful bridges and dense yet daunting walls of sound that leave you slightly dizzy from their spellbinding strength. The dual vocals from Alexandria Elizabeth and Keyan Pourzan further contribute to the contradictions laced throughout My Anti-Aircraft Friend. Their scuzzy single “Clairbourne Practice,” for example, reflects the misunderstandings and sheer chaos of sorting out one’s feelings. The distorted sample at the end of the track—rife with radio static—only adds to the incomprehensibly yet indisputably gorgeous blur.
Across the album the band fluctuates between stylistically suave and sheerly emotional, most evidently on “Knob,” which begins with downcast strumming and builds into a grungy, guitar-centric crescendo. Still, it’s the gorgeous closer “Stuck in a Car with Angels” that makes you realize the sheer brilliance of julie. It’s gentle and sweet at the start, the sort of blushing confessional that lines like “I want to follow you home” elicit, until the guitar feedback and seismic percussion kick in—suddenly, everything around you feels like it’s glowing. It’s the sort of sensation you get when everything clicks into place as the world around you seems to shine, when your heart feels like it’s lighting up because intuitively you know that you’re in the right place.
The level of emotion julie elicits on My Anti-Aircraft Friend and the effortless chemistry they demonstrate make it hard to believe this is a debut. But that’s the magic of julie.
