There weren’t really any albums that sounded like Izzy Hagerup’s debut album as Prewn when it dropped in 2023, and I suppose that’s still the case. Through the Window felt like a feral revival of minimal freak-folk coasting on the surrealist soundscape Hagerup was able to conjure with little more than layers of her unique vocals and a ramshackle backing soundbed largely comprised of acoustic guitar and percussion.
Somehow the experimentalism of that record barely prepares the listener for System, the follow-up project she’s releasing this week. Introducing synths into the equation in fairly unexpected ways is just the beginning of how these songs differ from their predecessors, with nothing but the “twisted and sociopathic perspectives” these songs are written from, in Hagerup’s words, connecting them to those heard on Through the Window. Among the reasons for this shift in sound is a new set of influences she’s tapping into here, which help accentuate the details that made her debut so strong—Viagra Boys bolster her natural sense of morbidity and humor, for example, while Otis Redding inspires a deeper sense of honesty and frankness.
Elsewhere, boundary-pushing figures like Kim Gordon land alongside the melodic feat that is “Empire State of Mind” and the playful layers of sound heard in Paul and Linda McCartney’s collaborations. Hagerup’s description of South Korean guitarist Shin Joong Hyun’s work as “beautiful, strange in its ways, imperfect, and free” feels just as apt for the record it helped inspire.
Check out all of Prewn’s picks below, and pre-order System here ahead of its release tomorrow via Exploding in Sound.
Lealani, “Lonely Stars”
In comparison to my last album, I’ve incorporated a lot more electronic elements into System. I was listening to Lealani’s album a good bit a few years ago and really loved the drawn-out synth bass and cyclical nature of her tunes. I think she played a role in songs like “Cavity” and “Dirty Dog.”
Gene Clark, “Silver Raven”
There was a period last year that I fell in love with Gene Clark’s album No Other. This song in particular really took me—I even made a little cover of it. I love the way he plays with layers and choral background vocals, the way the beat shifts at 1:10 and plays between the two beats, a nice and nasty touch. I feel like I’m on horseback going through the country; it’s dry and it’s dusty and I’ve got miles before I go, but I’ll happily linger in the vibey world that is this song.
Free Kitten, “Never Gonna Sleep”
Kim Gordon is an absolute beast and her rawness and edge is a sure inspiration for me. I love this song in all of its chaos. It seems like it’s all based off of a happy accident, a looping skip; the disorderly lo-fi nature of it hits way harder than anything cleaner could in this song. I think “Dirty Dog” is a song of mine that felt validated to be what it is in some ways because of this song.
Jack Kittel, “Psycho”
This song does exactly what I love to do: write a song from a twisted and sociopathic perspective. Taking on such a sick persona can be a fascinating practice of understanding the dark side of humanity and gives just the right shock to really get you thinking. I tend to use this method somewhat often to tap into the evil mind.
Wayne Smith, “Under Me Sleng Teng”
Somehow I found this song a few years ago and was listening to it on repeat for months. I can’t necessarily point my finger to where it’s shown up in my music, but the amount of time I’ve spent with this song, there’s no way it’s not in there.
Stereolab, “Come and Play in the Milky Night”
I love this band, but somehow this is one of my favorite songs of theirs. It just encapsulates the demo charm to a tee for me. Gentle and perfectly imperfect. I’ve definitely pulled inspiration from the simplicity of the song, the rhythmic single-note picking, the way the guitars play with and complement each other. I wouldn’t be surprised if this song played a subtly inspirational role in the outro of “My Side.”
Al Green, “Love and Happiness”
I remember two years ago, when I got home on New Year’s, I stayed up all night and had an epiphany with Al Green’s album I’m Still in Love with You. Such simple but perfect arrangements, moody and melancholy but vulnerable and honest about that sweet, all-consuming bliss and pain that is the experience of being in love. Those strings, that organ—oof. Timeless fire.
Peter Ivers, “Miraculous Weekend”
Peter Ivers has been a big influence for me in the past year. I love the playfulness with which he creates and sings. “Demos are often better than records,” Ivers once wrote. “More energy, more soul, more guts.” Peter’s music has felt very validating to listen to as I reluctantly came to terms with releasing another album of what were essentially demos, but I simply couldn’t imagine recreating them with a feel that could match what had been done.
Doris Troy, “Just One Look”
I listened to this song at a time in which I felt I was falling in love. I was belting it in my car on repeat around the same time I wrote “It’s Only You.” I think this song encouraged me and showed me the beauty of just feeling and expressing genuine, happy, loving emotion. “Only You” isn’t quite so certain of its infatuation, but I like to think that Doris showed me it’s OK to explore and share the blissful feeling.
Vivien Goldman, “P.A. Dub”
Messy, lo-fi, dubby. A song more about the feeling of the world it takes you into—the wandering vocals, the strings. Vivian’s album Resolutionary (Songs 1979-1982) was definitely something I was listening to around the time System got made and inevitably has played an influential role in the album.
Dave Van Ronk, “Mack the Knife”
I find this song so incredibly beautiful and light amid the sinister imagery of a shark-like man with a sharp knife. It’s creepy and haunting, but so delicate. The dynamics of Dave’s gruff, gorgeous, and shaky voice. It’s a song I’ll forever be in love with: the finger-picking melody, the story-telling, the imagery.
JAY-Z feat. Alicia Keys, “Empire State of Mind”
I was working on just some melody to play with and was seeking a metronome to keep me at something like 86 BPM. I was led to this song and ended up learning my amateur version of what the drum part is. I was just going to use it as a metronome for the melody I was working on, but it ended up being an integral part to the outro of “Dirty Dog.”
Viagra Boys, “Worms”
If it’s not already obvious, I like messing around with the idea of death. I love this song so much—how visceral and gruesome it is while maintaining a frank humor. The nonchalant energy of the song paired with the vile lyrical content. I connected with it deeply when I was driving alone back from a ski mountain in Vermont after having taken acid and staying up all night. I was feeling vulnerable, to say the least. I was listening to this song in my car and for some reason it just had me sobbing.
Sally Oldfield, “Blue Water”
My friend and a past Prewn member, Girshwin, showed this song to me. It just takes me to a surreal world I can hang out in for nine minutes at a time. I’m a real sucker for an unexpected and abrupt shift into what feels like an entirely new song. “My Side” and “Dirty Dog” probably reflect this the most.
Otis Redding, “(Sittin' on) the Dock of the Bay”
This song revealed to me how honest and vulnerable you can be about struggling with yourself. I appreciate how frank Otis is about the feeling of being stuck. At times, I’ve felt the need to avoid going there lyrically with my music, but this song has made me feel less alone as a lost and lonely time-waster and I’ve since had more courage to just say it as it is. I think songs like “System” and “Easy” certainly took some inspo from Otis Redding’s realness.
Paul and Linda McCartney, “Ram On”
I love the way Paul McCartney writes songs and layers them up with so many different voices and textures. It’s another song that plays on repetition, letting things evolve and grow as the song ages, but never really leaving the same progression. “Ram On” also has one of the most beautiful melodies to me, I can’t help but sing along. Paul McCartney’s artistic choices often hit me right where I need it. I love the playfulness in his arrangements and the ear candy he creates. His production style is right up my alley and has certainly been a big influence.
Shin Joong Hyun, “The Sun”
I love the production of this song and the whole album—the strings, the melody, her voice. And I was also happily inviting the validation it brought: that a lo-fi production can be powerful in a particularly charming way. I was going through a period of confusion around music, or dissociation, or fear, not sure. This album revived my infatuation. So beautiful, strange in its ways, imperfect, and free.
