In 2019, via Instagram DMs, Grace Ives humbly replied when I asked how a Chicago-issued, Ventra card for public transportation ended up on the cover artwork of her aptly titled, debut LP, 2nd. Then delving into her Bandcamp portfolio—where she is listed to be the sole delegate of the ‘#snakepop’ genre—lent me access to off-streaming demos (Janky Star Revisited and RINGTONES!! vol. 1) which proved an incomparable artistry by such a precise musician.
A vision of whimsy, additionally seen in music videos for “Icing on the Cake” and “Stupid Bitches,” has been one of her most effective tools in the face of blunt storytelling. On 2026’s Girlfriend, release-preceded by four equally album-highlight singles, she set herself up for intentional failure, for honesty’s sake, as stated in her interview with Pitchfork, who labeled 2022’s Janky Star ‘Best New Music.’ Ultimately, the project is fully successful, thanks to her dedication as a singer and songwriter, alongside industry veterans Ariel Rechtshaid (Charli xcx, Sky Ferreira, Blood Orange, Madonna) and John DeBold (HAIM/Taylor Swift, Katy Perry) who contribute career-redefining production.
The N.Y.C. born & raised artist opens the first track “Now I’m” by invoking a foggy mystery suitable for a television theme song in the vein of Showtime’s The Affair, or fellow detective-thriller Twin Peaks, the former, performed by Fiona Apple, whose influence I considered during Grace Ives’ Girlfriend, due to an album-wide theatrical component. Show tunes for the uninformed can boast a one-dimensional connotation that artists, like Apple with her 2005 Extraordinary Machine, prefer not to consider upon review, but as aforementioned, Grace’s whimsical energy is entirely too free to pigeonhole. Impressively, her slight whisper wields power amongst pulsing percussion that welcomes listeners to a new kind of romance. The ethereal trills as she taunts, “It’s so loud,” are sung with clever restraint.
“Avalanche,” is next in the queue and showcases the songstress illuminating her own self-growth through an apparent lens of regret. Arpeggiating plucks back lyrical notions of this being a time for Ives to shine with earned assertion. As the album continues, octave limitations are ignored comprehensively. A fully lush soundscape completes trances that are reminiscent of the idiosyncrasies and the “je ne sais quoi” present since Grace Ives’ 2016 EP, Really Hot, which critically earned, then high-praise, comparisons to early work by Grimes. In “Fire 2,” obsessions over romantic unity are rekindled from afar, narrated so immersively, you cannot judge what very well may be a form of sabotage. Perfection is sought after, but openness triumphs! Beautiful and simple piano has the chance to stand out during astutely constructed melodies.
Experimental pitching over club-worthy beats amps up choruses, akin to 2010s pop like Ives’ contemporary Zella Day, a sound somehow already joyously nostalgic, even for I who just recently grew up in this era of digital unpredictability. Grace is hugged by orchestral accompaniment that suits her sense of freedom, between proclamations about career stipulations and the city views of her so far forever home in Brooklyn/Queens; she realizes that alone she can achieve clarity. Cutting alliteration from the tip of a silver tongue frames her ASMR-esque destruction of heartbreaker idols. “In the morning light, suits me right, drying in the sun, thinking up a last laugh, drink your little epitaph, walking to the shore…” is exulted on “Drink Up” whilst soothing basslines soundtrack a metaphorical stripping, for me painting a picture of Cinderella being dressed by woodland creatures. When her voice intentionally breaks, there is a synthlike quality pushing it further into being engulfed by instrumentals, but executed in a conservatively delicate way that pays off.
Fitting themes of expansive oceans, literal and for possibilities, are revisited on Girlfriend, and we are treated with personal tellings of what instincts being corrupted by indelible misunderstandings looks like for someone who has achieved young success. Human approaches to seeking stability seem brutal on the single “My Mans.” The album is dropping as national headlines currently point out the juxtaposition in actress Julia Fox’s and influencer Jake Shane’s, tone-deaf reactions to the 2025 film If I Had Legs I’d Kick You. Grace contrasts women learning lessons, often distracted by life and lost on her, with a more relaxed existence for men, less pressured to be attuned to constant awareness for self preservation. On “Dance With Me,” effortless vocal runs transcend earlier heavy lyricism with ease. While play begins to feel like a partially humiliating ritual by her lonesome, she shakes off great expectations by maintaining affective autonomy. Breath edited to be audibly crunchy, in the form of stimulating loops, supports her weightlessness achieved on track 6, bending dread.
“Neither You Nor I,” the following excerpt, has a ticking metronome presumably attractive to Björk fans plus an intimate vibrato for those of Billie Eillish alike… Kate Bush and Enya would likely appreciate the choir’s descending notes too. The use of colloquial language and modern slang creates a timeless atmosphere that is still soulful. Unexpected twists and turns at a bodily rhythmic level feel eye opening to the overarching plot. Track 8, “Trouble” is immediately a feel-good, road-trip playlist contender. Still, a narrative that poses many questions prevails: is labor for love worth all the effort? Will it be enough? Are happenstance, neighborly collisions a sign for decisively meeting in the middle? A memorably pitch perfect performance and undeniable wit on Ives’ part keeps things grounded. The shared history discussed is something that needs exercising, but echoing wails emerge shimmering.
Even when our narrator is worn out, the transitions between stories are seamless. She writes about church then later scores tales of sin with an organ. On “What If,” screeches at a halting stop are bliss, and the rapture is enthralling. She finds light at the end of the tunnel with gratitude, notably conveying a vocalized expression of surrender. A spacious chuckle, and piano pedal-reset, refreshes a consistent live quality–never lost to less natural touches like modern/sampled strings that remain elegant. “Garden,” track 10, holds my favorite singing overall and is absolutely essential, despite serving as both a recap and setup to track 11’s *encore* climax. She wraps things up in a nice bow without disappointing because of convincing catharsis. Regained independence has worth, and this ‘garden’ is not an oasis available for being paved, despite political happenings in our nation’s capital that can taint our faith in sustaining beauty.
Closer, “Stupid Bitches” feels like a soap opera too close to awareness and society to be tacky, only entertaining at the fullest capacity. Beyond the corporate classifications of Tumblr/MySpace, this record radiates music-discovered-on-a-blog status like a classic; it ends on a stride, blending confident, sonic metamorphosis with poetic, surrounding elements. Grace reclaims labels like ‘bitch,’ coined to be demeaning, in an effectively original way, despite this being an effort undertaken by decades of female artists.
Throughout Girlfriend, melodramatic declarations fueled by pain are shamelessly replaced with a “DGAF” stance on who is just a hater. Formerly an opener for indie pioneer Lykke Li in 2022, Ives will now be headlining her own highly anticipated North American/European tour through Spring-Summer.
Girlfriend by Grace Ives is out now via True Panther/Capitol Records.
Words by Maxwell Williams for Staged Haze
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