In 2013, Rachel Gagliardi felt something inside her shift. While the Slutever drummer and guitarist still believed in her bratpunk band’s motto—friends first, bands second—she was craving some creative self-discovery. Gagliardi made a pact with Michelle Zauner, then playing in Little Big League, to pursue song-a-day solo projects, publishing them to a joint Tumblr account alongside gifs of TV’s stifled women letting off steam: Marceline, Betty Draper, Chibi Moon. Zauner’s turn toward indie rock spawned Japanese Breakfast; Gagliardi’s power-pop songs birthed Pouty. While Zauner’s new band took off, Gagliardi held hers close to the chest, riding out Slutever and joining members of Hole and Vivian Girls in the grunge-pop group Upset.
A decade later, Pouty’s debut studio album has finally arrived. When Gagliardi poked her head out as Pouty with 2016’s Take Me to Honey Island and 2017’s Saint Mary of the Moods EPs, she embraced spacious, fuzzy pop songs akin to early Best Coast with a rough edge. On Forgot About Me, she’s laser-focused on glossy pop-rock, leaning into big production and bigger hooks with the confidence of someone who’s tried on enough pants to shop without hitting the dressing room. Instead of playing every instrument herself like before, Gagliardi calls the shots as bandleader, directing longtime collaborators including guitarist Evan Bernard, bassist Cat Park, and drummer Jarret Nathan. The wick of solo projects is determination—to prove your ideas are worthy, to uncover hidden parts of yourself—and Gagliardi proudly watches it burn. “Denial is a heavy drug,” she sings, as if addressing her bandlocked younger self.
Much of Forgot About Me is devoted to the teen girl aesthetic, and not simply because Gagliardi has ribbons in her hair or charms on her jewelry. She sings about astrological stereotypes, all-consuming infatuation, and crying in cafes. Her sugary voice is indulgent, but she’s quick to dissolve it in the noise-pop absinthe of songs like “Kill a Feeling.” Even her one-liners could’ve been sponsored by gel pens: “Life is no way to treat the living,” “I’m warning you right now that sometimes I’m insane.” Album opener “Salty” is a splash pool of power chords, cymbal crashes, and Wurlitzer with a delightfully catchy chorus. “I bet you almost forgot about me,” Gagliardi sings, before following up with a smirk: “I’m not embarrassed.”
Gagliardi is now 34, but Pouty recognize that rock’s teen girl aesthetic has no real expiration date. Olivia Rodrigo was 18 when she plastered her face with butterfly stickers, but Slutever were 23 when they doodled on a composition notebook and Courtney Love immortalized the crying beauty queen look at 30. Whether walking the hallways of Rookie or holding her baby daughter in a Pouty music video, Gagliardi is a trusted source because her themes are universal. More than a fashion trend, the teen girl aesthetic celebrates pursuing creativity, dreaming freely, and seizing your independence. It’s trading friendship bracelets inside football stadiums regardless of age or gender. It is, as Pouty posits on “The Big Stage,” staying young at heart, even when your newborn is a living measuring stick for your own age: “Now I’m allowing myself to dream/What if you stopped standing in your own way?”
As confident as she is with the language of youthful self-expression, Gagliardi uses Pouty to question age stereotypes anyway. There’s no arrested development or prolonged immaturity in her approach. With sharp power-pop melodies and radiant production, Forgot About Me draws a line between Pouty and that dog., even trying on the alt-rock fangs of Anna Waronker’s Yellowjackets theme during its scuzzier songs. “The way you look makes me feel sick/Because I realize I’m getting older, too,” Gagliardi croons over upright bass on album closer “Underwear.” The loungey atmosphere implies that isn’t an indictment; it’s just a fact.
