New York and London based singer-songwriter Louise Aubrie presents herself as a “pop-punk” artist, and as sick as we all are of having this discussion, I’ve got to take issue with that. I know, I know, I’m sorry. It’s a pet peeve of mine. I’m still pissed about Pink.
Discussions on what constitutes “punk” tend to quickly degenerate into a lot of elitist bile-spewing, so we’ll do our best to steer clear of that and just do some surface level of analysis of what genre of music this actually is.
Aubrie is almost definitely more pop than punk, but that’s alright. In a way, it would sort of be a shame to cram such hooky, jangly summer fun into such a rigid, dogmatic mold.
That’s not to say that punk can’t be cathartic and liberating. (It can.) And that’s not to say that pop doesn’t have cynical predispositions that can turn would-be-art into a load of homogeneous product. (See: Pink.) All I’m getting at is that trying to get your punk-fix from Louise Aubrie is sort of like trying to make a strawberry smoothie with your printer. Just because your smoothie tastes like plastic and stomach acid doesn’t mean you should throw the printer out-it’s a pretty nice printer. Just… Take it for what it is.
This is your printer.
This is your blender.
They both work fine. They’re just for different things.
Her new record, Late 44 (recorded at Abbey Road!) is solid summer album with pretty impressive credentials. Aside from being recorded at the famous Abbey Road, it was produced and mixed by James Knight and mastered by Denis Blackham. Look for it on July 13th.
And if you REALLY want punk, just check out Lipstick Homicide.
Or go ahead and listen to Pink. I can’t stop you, I’m not a cop.