Album Review

Neighbor Lady Grabs You Now With "Maybe Later"

Neighbor Lady - Maybe Later

It's almost summer, which means it's high time for sun-kissed, punk-tinged rock. Athens, GA's Neighbor Lady is here to deliver with hooks tasty enough to sink your teeth into. While the songs are jangly, the lyrics are anything but. In fact, the band's debut EP Maybe Later is an exercise in stealthily rising existential dread. Fans of Lydia Loveless's last album will find a whole lot to like in the dance-able "Fine," about a liaison born out of desperation and loneliness.

I guess I don't like anything easy -- not even my music. At first glance Maybe Later feels like slacker rock. The second glance makes it seem like a breakup album. But the third glance can't help but make me wonder if it's ultimately about depression. For instance, on the jubilant "Let it Bleed," Emily Braden crows,

You say you’d do anything for me

But you hardly even know me

You have no idea whats gotten into me

You have no idea whats gotten into me

There's so much pressure building up inside chest

Tense and nervous but you know I’m trying my best

Well I let it bleed

 

As Braden's partner can only begin to grasp the depths of Braden's pain, she's simply ready to let it fly, never mind the casualties. On "Oh, Honey," I get the sense that Braden isn't addressing another person, but perhaps another version of herself:

 

I’ll never understand how this honest man

Could come between you and I

This could never apply to how I thought things would happen for us

Oh honey what's all the fuss about

I haven’t seen you in months but I’ve been here all along

And then I tell you I’m happy and to whom I belong

And you can't seem to hear me out

Oh honey whats all the fuss about

 

When the relationship inevitably implodes, Braden is left to pick up the pieces. Maybe Later, as the title suggests, doesn't leave us on the upswing. But it does illustrate how we can begin to step up to the plate.


Maybe Later by Neighbor Lady
Neighbor Lady -- Official, Facebook, Bandcamp

This review originally appeared on Adobe & Teardrops. You can also find Rachel on Wide Open Country and Twitter.