Soccer Mommy
Evergreen
LOMA VISTA
ABOVE THE CURRENT
For Soccer Mommy’s Sophie Allison, loss is a win—a conciliatory fact that’s sprouted from a period of growth and has since cultured into a blossom that could (or at least should) define who she is as an artist going forward. Her fourth album Evergreen digs deeper both poetically and personally into an already confessional canon with her dozy, conversational vocal style and crusty pop-grunge arrangements at their clearest and most openly organic. That’s not to say that albums such as 2022’s Sometimes, Forever were glossy or overproduced, or even that its songs such as “Fire in the Driveway” weren’t scarred by their lived-through experience. Far from it. But there was always just one vibe missing, one intimacy avoided, and one smart phrase out of sync that would’ve made Soccer Mommy’s previous three albums perfect portraits of emotion and fire worthy of clever and passionate wordsmith peers such as Japanese Breakfast.
Take, for example, “M,” the single that came paired with the album’s announcement back in August. The clarity of drum and guitar that opens that song is what makes its slow finale of plush strings and delicate winds that much more elegant. Filter into the recording’s strong, supple melody a simple lyrical phrase (“I feel you, even though you’re gone…I hear your voice in all my favorite songs”) and you’re dumbstruck by how naked real loss can make you feel. I mean, who doesn’t hear the music of one’s recent past that reminds them of loved ones gone? “I don’t mind talking to empty halls.” Classic.
You wouldn’t mistake this Nashvillian’s jangling guitars for a “going country” arc, per se, yet there’s a certain lilt and a lover’s yawn and stretch to the gaps of space within “Some Sunny Day”—how the faces she once drew close are gone like gusts of wind—that could’ve been sung by the Tammys, Dollys, and Lorettas of the world. While a bright, bold rocker such as pre-album single “Driver” threatens to lift all spirits toward a dancing mood, it’s the melancholy of the one-two-three punch that is “Changes,” “Abigail,” and “Thinking of You” that reminds the listener that Allison’s grieving is no laughing matter despite its great, tart shows of wit. Not since Brian Wilson welled up in tears thinking of his love’s lost locks on “Caroline, No” has hair represented something so transitionally mournful.
All this, and Soccer Mommy’s Evergreen still radiates hope—for an end to Allison’s dreams of falling, and that the weight of her anchor will lift and spring her out of the darkness. If that’s the case, I really can’t wait to hear what her next album will bring.
