Blondshell’s If You Asked For a Picture is one of the most overtly polemical and confessional albums since Hole‘s Celebrity Skin. A cascade of riffs is interspersed with lyrical portraits of characters experiencing distress fueled by societal expectations and an unhealthy dependency on alcohol. Sometimes, for variety, Blondshell lets the vocal harmonies do the heavy lifting, as heard in the closing, almost a cappella-oriented seconds of “Arms”.
It’s feisty indie rock—the type of angular anthems that would have been celebrated during the 1990s as a triumphant call to arms, at a time when it was fashionable to highlight emotional scarring over a heavy blues rock backbeat. Blondshell, who released a superior debut in 2023, has acumen as a vocalist, jumping from guttural growls to ecstatic shrieks, highlighting the urgency of the guitars chipping underneath as she does so. The fact that If You Asked For a Picture is beautifully produced clouds the issue that it feels like a throwback to a bygone era, rather than a clarion call for a new generation of songwriters.
“T&A” sets the scene: a subterranean loner, filled to the eyebrows with angst and rage, queries the decisions that have led them to this impasse. “I said something about it one time,” she wails, like a banshee crying to the sound of jangly Robert Smith-esque guitars. “Event of a Fire” slows down the tempo as an arpeggio plays in waltz time, with a melancholy and morose singing style.
No matter the instrumental backdrop, the melodies are perennially bleak, and as a means of dealing with her environment, Blondshell lets out the rage into the microphone. “Keep a ball chain on my leg,” the songwriter screams on “Thumbthack”, as an epithet quickly follows.
If You Asked For a Picture wears its influences unashamedly, and save for the lack of keyboard solo, “Toy” could easily feature on one of Brandon Flowers’ records. The acoustic ballad “Two Times” bears the Nirvana DNA from their Unplugged period, complete with lyrics that sound like something from the Patti Smith songbook. Occasionally derivative, this record improves when it allows the artist to focus on her inner truth, as she does on the genuinely stunning “Model Rockets”.
It’s the most successful composition on display, and it’s the closing track to boot. It’s a glorious display of phonetic gymnastics: restlessly dark and moody, “Model Rockets” slows and speeds, pivoting from pensive purrs to out-and-out rock posturings, and all in the matter of breaths. Whatever else can be said about the work, Blondshell truly knows how to sing, and it’s all there to be heard on this four-minute masterwork.
The strength of character in the musicianship seems, and quite understandably, to be shaped by the topic matter in question. “23’s a Baby” has a presentable guitar tone, the joie de vivre, and splashes of vocal flavoring that recall the whimsical yearnings found in the Hollies. The virtue-signalling theatrics of “Change” call for a more agitated, drum-heavy layout, exhibiting an exasperated side to the singer-songwriter. “He Wants Me”, meanwhile, proves to be a band showcase, as Blondshell underperforms during the verses, as if consciously allowing the session players to take this as their time to shine.
The guitars fizzle, the drums clatter, and the ambience reflects the jagged production style that was common during the 1990s. As a throwback, Blondshell’s sophomore work has form and finesse, but it lacks the spark of ingenuity that was present throughout her eponymous debut. However, the conviction demonstrated on bangers “T&A” and “Model Rockets” is such that it is unlikely to bother the fanbase a great deal.