Remnants of Truth Exposed for All to See

As per the title, Cunningham’s distinctively honest album explores complex topics like drug abuse, glamour, grief and anxiety amidst the backdrop of electronic, punk-like instrumentation. Her compelling songwriting, alongside the intimacy of her production, provides listeners with a personalized, reflective experience with this album.

The opening track “All I’ve Ever Known” takes an ironic antithesis to its meaning. The album sets off on a tone of careful, chaotic confusion, discussing the inconsistency and delusion of maturity and growing up, caught between the childhood innocence of “wonder” and the daunting world of “change.” This air of bewilderment continues through the first track, “Hospital,” where she explores the seeming emptiness of the world at her feet alongside her simultaneous numbness and addiction to painful existence.

Further, through “Sunshine Over the Counter” she masks the dark world of drug use in a playful ambiguous title. The disturbing image of “Sunshine Over the Counter” adds a more sinister element to her explorations of identity, sandwiching images of insecurity between the metaphor amidst low sultry tones and electric guitars. The calculated disarray that opens the album grounds it in an air of intentional confusion, contemplating the complexities and insecurities both on a daily level and on a wider scale, echoed by the panicking sounds of clashing punk guitar riffs and aggressive percussion.

Cunningham strikes a deeper tone through the song “Life According to Raechel,” which recalls the death of a family member. The cyclic message of “once your girl always your girl,” alongside the regrets and contemplations of grief, creates a sense of the unconditional love found more clearly in loss. Cunningham paints a bittersweet image of passing, finding peace in stability “when this world and its people are all we have” in the love we feel for our lost ones. This song stands out as acoustic over her other tracks with piano and soulful vocals being central to its musicality, creating a somber connection with her listeners through a stripped-back sound.

Cunningham presents a distinct sense of honestly in her relationships through her comments on artistry and the music industry spotlight. On “In From Japan” she writes of the difficulty in finding originality comparing her subject to a “lifeless animation of yourself” to expose a lack of authenticity in the said creative modern artistry. Similarly, in “Sarah and the Silent Crowd,” she further critiques the scrutiny of the arts, illustrating the hollow shallowness of “glamour” and the sacrifice that comes alongside her superficial front.

Cunningham’s strength in honesty is best shown through this deluxe edition. In choosing to include demos as well as newer tracks, she tracks her artistic progression giving listeners an insight into the development and progressions of an album. In including 3 different versions of “Hospital,” one with emptier instrumental sections, one which was originally released and one being a production-heavy, polished version featuring Remi Wolf. She offers an intimate insight into not only the meaning of the song but the production itself, allowing us to develop new perspectives, understandings and appreciations for the same title. Further, the stripped-back version of “Life According to Raechel” adds a unique sense of authenticity and closeness with Cunningham, isolating vocals and sparse piano to draw attention to her hard-hitting songwriting.

Cunningham sets herself apart with this album through her distinct sense of honesty. Through compelling, intricate songwriting, blunt comments on a range of difficult, complex topics and the inclusion of the production process itself, Cunningham gives us a translucent look into her musical identity.