Philly punks Mannequin Pussy hit their indie crossover peak on I Got Heaven

Brett Gurowitz’s independent company has a pretty handsome track record. As the name suggests, set in stone are its skatepark punk progenitors, legacy metalcore fire starters and even experimental next-gen emo rappers. Having released Mannequin Pussy’s 2019 breakthrough Patience, it was clear Epitaph had clocked onto bright prospects that had been consistently whetting hardcore kids’ appetites across the years. Whether destroying Saint Vitus or showcasing their brand of snarling alt-rock on Audiotree, they hit that sweet spot between punk lifers and indie darlings, sonically and geographically, occupying the space between Philadelphia label mates Soul Glo, the city's fourth wave emo in Modern Baseball and Balance and Composure, even the inimitable bedroom pop weirdness of Alex G. More than ever, I Got Heaven polishes their scene-straddling status as a puzzle built from the group’s collaborative life-changing experiences and inspirations.

The most obvious sounds underpinning the band’s tight arsenal are 90s alternative, only reanimated. There’s shoegaze vocal swells and both a vibrant guitar solo and swinging dance beat on “Nothing Like”. “Tell Me Softly” expands their oft-brilliant amplified catharsis with walking basslines and soaring synth work. Similar to Bully’s latest career-best, “Sometimes” injects grit into well-constructed power pop. When Marisa Dabice venomously repeats “nothing’s gonna change!” on closer “Split Me Open”, it’s a saddening bleat summarising the overarching theme of a perfect world placed on an imploding crash course. First introduced on the title track, the earth-as-heaven motif clashes against Christian hypocrisy, juggling sleaze with holiness, a dichotomy also served by angelic choruses and loud-soft dynamics that flit in and out whenever it feels just right. This Goldilocks Effect is achieved wondrously over and over.

Down to the woah-ohs and clamouring refrains for baying crowds, Mannequin Pussy have never been strangers to filtering folky singer-songwriter tropes through harsh distortion before amply supplying pit-fuelled rage. While “I Don’t Know You” seamlessly warms up guitars into a soothing climax of ascending vocals and keys, “Of Her” is a raucous ode to Dabice’s mother’s nurturing of creative freedom. “Aching” may be the musical equivalent of a boiling-over kettle but it’s punk refashioned by the band’s rhythmic nous. “OK! OK! OK! OK!” is rapid fire call and response hardcore on the surface, only punctuated with organic hand clapping and DIY drums to provide a fresh twist exhibited by other innovative torchbearers. Turnstile included, and that’s no bad company to be in.

Those accustomed to this four-piece’s rise will hardly be surprised by this continued genre merging to mass effect. Mass appeal might be the only thing missing, perhaps not possible for a band that has to asterisk their name sometimes. It’s not stopped them from perfecting their place in vibrant scenes that have scaled to wider appreciation, and with I Got Heaven now in the back pocket, few groups deserve a share of the limelight more.