photo by Acacia Evans

It’s interesting that daena brands herself as an “indie” pop artist because I’ve seen no press pictures in which she looks like a Middle American dad from the 80s. No trucker caps, no ironic mustaches—not even one jort! And her music doesn’t sound like it either. There are no quirky, nerdy, whiny, or twee vocals, nor is there any talk-singing or sing-talking; daena’s voice is classically aesthetic. Her songs are at times sparse, but not minimalist. Her words are direct or clear in metaphor rather than very abstract and oblique. And her production style is shimmering and immaculate as opposed to raw, lo-fi, or haphazard. There is nothing ironic, detached, or distant about her songwriting; it’s intimate and personal in the most natural of ways. As she tells us about as much in the title track and throughout her artistry, she’s not trying to be cool without looking like she’s trying, nor is she trying to be edgy or shocking; daena is the girl next door that anyone could fall in love with. She is your lifelong best friend and her songs are all facets of her companionship.

So normally, because I’m a silly idiot, I write—just as I’d began—silly but absolutely genuine reviews for daena and many other artists, but Alter Ego has her taking her singer-songwriter approach toward the more poignant, stripped-down, and austere. In other words, it’s now far more difficult for me to write stupid jokes into this review (but not impossible) because daena is even wiser, more serious, and more beautiful than ever. I mean: she’s wiser, seriouser, and beautifuler than ever. (See? I knew it wasn’t impossible.)

Not only that, but she’s almost entirely moved her instrumentation from electronic to electric and acoustic, perhaps following the momentum of her immediately previous (and absolutely gorgeous) single “Disappearing Act.” But make no mistake; the good old clear-voiced, youthful, and (relatively if not actually) young but life-experienced daena shines through every track—although Alter Ego shows her mature in composition, concept, and aesthetic. The album broadens her repertoire beyond pop bops and ditties to more ballads. She’s always had a knack for giving a bright and fun treatment to not-so-bright-and-fun subject matter, but here she plays it pretty straight (an ironic turn of phrase considering I’m reviewing a queer artist for a queer-themed publication, but I’m leaving it); even the pop-rock songs—“Emily,” “Alter Ego,” and “Intrusive Thoughts”—aren’t overtly upbeat save for parts of them.

The themes are heavy and often circumstantially specific—a bit more so than her previous releases even. The almost reservedly and politely cheery “Emily” expresses happiness for a past fling’s now truer love and fulfillment found in another—and the twist is that daena found her own true love through meeting Emily. “Karaoke Bar” uses chill but groovy electronics to tell the tale of the sadness behind a smile; late night fun covering up heartbreak—perhaps barely if at all.

“Turn Lane,” at first a rootsy essentially folktronica song that ends up dreamy and a touch shoegazey in approach, features some of daena’s best vocal work, with preciously gorgeous rising melodies that ascend to a sublimely personable vulnerability, and dry, almost rough rhythm guitar that climbs just the same. It opens with ever so slightly trembling yet warm keyboard chords sustained along some bittersweet, sensitive acoustic guitar plucking, each inviting the listener to an intimate moment. As if switching lanes on an empty highway, daena seamlessly transitions from her bittersweet invitation to openly addressing her melancholy. Her sympathetically desperate and confessional performance backed by a band that knows how to turn it up a bit in the powerfully atmospheric department would make any modern emo or fuzz-saturated “sadboi” post-hardcore band turn their jealousy of “Turn Lane” into an “emogaze” cover posthaste.

“bri” (the song’s title is as uncapitalized as daena’s name), a starkly beautiful piano ballad, laments the distance from a formerly close friend with painstaking (auto)biography, ultimately asking for a return to their friendship. Its sporadic teardrop flourishes of acoustic guitar, plaintive verses, and briefly hopeful chorus are heartbreaking for anyone who’s had a good friend throughout childhood and—for whatever reason—drifted apart from them.

I’d be remiss not to mention “Lucky Number,” one of the most hauntingly beautiful love songs I’ve ever heard. (And I hate to write of things as “beautiful” so many times in the same review, but truly, daena has me otherwise at a loss for words!) We learn of the moment in which daena realized that she’s fallen wholly, unshakably, infinitely in love with her partner, her fiancée—after seven years of romance—by way of a soft semi-acoustic folk ballad accompanied only by ethereal graces of electric guitar and percussion. It’s an intriguingly melancholic way to profess one’s love, but it brings to mind all of the tender moments shared with loved ones—the good, the bad, and the in-between—and its unexpected somberness forces us to consider the people that might not get to seven years of love in their life with anyone—and those who might have to go through life alone. daena and her partner may have found their lucky number in seven years, but some people never will, and that makes it all the more precious and profound.

The light and pastel (pretend you’re synesthetic) title track (for which her dad made a short comic!) saunters with all insouciance in the opposite direction of impostor syndrome. It’s a definitive statement that marks the first use of profanity in daena’s generally clean, preteen-friendly upbeat pop-rock and synth-pop discography, which does have us ask if the “fucks” were necessary. Thematically, of course; in the interest of artistic freedom, double that; my personal sensibilities have no issue with it. I simply hope that daena didn’t shoot herself in the foot by writing explicit language into a song that could easily benefit preteens and older kids sheltered by overbearing teachers and parents. Despite their refusal to acknowledge the—I’ll say—precocious diction of children aged zero and up, we all know that literal middle schoolers both frequently and remorselessly tell each other to “fuck off” and “eat a dick” (a single minute spent with a competitive online video game will provide such a perverse and putridly puerile abundance of evidence of such that would instantly terminate the beating of any morally righteous grandmother’s heart), but those helicopter moms and loser descendants of the PMRC for some reason think that life lessons for all ages can’t be imparted with a little spice.

Such goes for “bri” and “Intrusive Thoughts” too, although “Karaoke Bar” might roundly be considered even more inappropriate for kids less for its “fucks” and more for its “I’m wasteds.” And, you know, its eponymous bar. But hey, as long as we’re being honest about people acting more maturely than their age, there are plenty of kids who are more responsible drinkers than fully grown men, so you know what, daena, put all the “fucks” you want in a life lesson song made for all ages! (I swear: if some idiot tries to link this review to “gays grooming children” I’ll squirt them with a water pistol filled with a liquid that they wish were water. (Hint: It will probably be my brother’s cat’s urine. (What was I saying about it being far more difficult for me to write stupid jokes into this review? Oh yeah; nothing.)))

With all this said though, it just means that daena might consider releasing clean versions of these few songs and any others with profanity that might resonate with those very young—lest she want to incur the wrath of humorless, censorious, perennially offended buttholes (the kind with sticks shoved up them). After all, the irony is that most nine year olds are okay with hearing “strong language” in such a context, but that too many forty-nine year olds aren’t okay with nine year olds hearing it in any context. You know those middle schoolers I mentioned two paragraphs ago? I don’t normally use profanity myself, but I would if given the opportunity to conduct a children’s choir of them to tell those forty-nine year olds to “fuck off.”

“Fucks” aside, how many kids wouldn’t benefit from hearing about daena dyeing her hair blue and wearing certain clothes to try to be cool? As recounted by her songs, daena lives one of the most important principles for all artists and all people: authenticity. She teaches us that there is no need to reinvent yourself to please anyone, to redefine your identity to gain anyone’s approval, or even to “find yourself.” (Unless you’re a Nazi. 100% reinvent yourself if you’re a Nazi. And not as a “Mega-Nazi;” go the other way.)

Perhaps the only real strike against the album is that its good half is the upbeat half and its best half is the balladic one. With four songs each, it might’ve made more sense to release it either as two EPs, or—to my preference—an upbeat album of any length and a full-length album of sentimental ballads. The upbeat half does include a demo of a seemingly novelty song “WORM,” which, if included at all, should’ve been a bonus track or put much earlier in the track sequencing; its tone completely clashes with the almost immediately previous heart-pounding intimacy of “Lucky Number” and ultimately makes the polished product feel shorter than it really is.

But daena needn’t drop the upbeat tunes as they’re her original forte; on Alter Ego she shows more growth than most artists can ever aspire to, so a more confident arrangement in total track count and in terms of categorical approach would help. (Seven songs plus a demo is a tease! The short album length is otherwise warranted as the songs never overstay their welcome.) daena is such a good songwriter that she could balance a few upbeat songs with several ballads or vice versa, or go half-and-half as she’s already done—but the latter album composition only works best with at least five perhaps (even just slightly) longer songs per approach, and/or by sequencing them with album sides (e.g. an upbeat side followed by a balladic side). Otherwise, as a whole, it could end up seeming merely like a collection of songs rather than a cohesive work.

It serves as a testament to the album’s quality that quibbles over track sequencing and release organization are its only shortcomings. Even when sticking to her usual and often humorously dealt-with themes of romantic dealings, friendship, and pointed behavioral observations, she was already wise beyond her years, so her new growth should impress anyone because going from amazing to even more amazing is nothing less than an achievement. Throwaway industry-manufactured marketer-engineered commodity this is not; with Alter Ego, daena more than proves herself as a singer and songwriter of austerely, harrowingly arresting and cathartic songs. If existential deliberation were as preeminently beautiful as “Turn Lane,” “bri,” and “Lucky Number,” no one would ever have any trouble going through any of life’s ordeals. Alter Ego is a paragon of life-learned and life-affirming songcraft that proves that pop music can both be good and be used for good. Kudos to daena on her stellar first album!

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