Indigo De Souza
Precipice
LOMA VISTA
ABOVE THE CURRENT
Indigo De Souza writes a lot about crying. One of her earliest releases was the 2017 EP Don’t Cry Just Do, a trio of R&B-influenced bedroom-pop tracks that are in turns flirty and yearning. “Die/Cry” from 2021’s Any Shape You Take, meanwhile, recasts love in a ’90s indie-rock palette and a playful sense of morbidity. That latter aspect has been a hallmark of her album covers, which are painted by her mom and star skeletons in lush landscapes—not to mention nihilistic tracks like “How I Get Myself Killed” from her 2018 full-length debut I Love My Mom, and the memento-mori throughline on her 2023 release All of This Will End.
On her new album Precipice, crying is joyful. De Souza traveled to LA in the wake of a breakup to create the record, leaning into pop with producer Elliott Kozel as a way to harness a whole arc of emotional energy. Early single “Crying Over Nothing” pairs heartbroken lyrics with an ecstatic beat that evokes Carly Rae Jepsen and Robyn’s “Dancing on My Own” as she revels in post-breakup mourning, while “Dinner” looks back to All of This Will End’s pre-shift dissociation anthem “Parking Lot” (“Is there anything better than just...crying in the parking lot?”). When you’re coming out of feeling nothing, even tears can be a cause to celebrate—and on Precipice, De Souza does so with empathy, resolve, and a bold new sound.
The album is a little morbid, too, taking its title from a feeling that De Souza has expressed of always being on the verge “of something horrible, or something beautiful.” But Precipice dances on the edge of that cliff, transforming that horror into the beauty itself. Opener “Be My Love” floats between fantasy and denial over gorgeous textures and nostalgic samples. “Heartthrob” eviscerates victimizers, echoing that rallying cry from All of This Will End’s “You Can Be Mean”: “I can’t believe I let you touch my body.” But where that older track spoke directly to an abuser, “Heartthrob” looks back on that moment of abuse from a better future and with better-placed blame, acknowledging, “He really tricked me / I let him touch me where he wanted.” As De Souza reckons with past numbness and offers a whimsical “Click your heels and feel my love,” speaking the trauma turns into a path to joyful embodiment.
“Crush” and “Heartbreaker” are also emblematic of that duality between beauty and horror, examining the same relationship from before and after. The former is sparkling and giddy, but piano and a low pedal steel add rootsy blues to the latter, as De Souza laments: “I’m gonna lose my mind missin’ you.” There’s also a hint of heartland rock on the album’s climax, “Be Like the Water,” where she repeats mantras and affirmations in a Springsteenian warble. Instead of clinging to control over what may come, De Souza finds liberation in letting go completely, even when she has to force the words out: “I don’t know what comes next / So what?”
