Twenty years old and in full command of her references.
Violet Grohl arrives on her debut full-length not as the Foo Fighters scion the press will inevitably make her out to be, but as a songwriter with a singularly wide aesthetic register. Be Sweet To Me is a record designed on anachronism; its sound embraces the early 90s riot grrrl wave, its riffs oscillate at times between 70s folk rock idiom, shoegaze density and the lo-fi pop atmospheres of its more experimental moments and its visuals (Victorian script, a white gown amidst tall grass) reach further back still into a Brontë-by-way-of-Ethel-Cain pastoral gothic. Recorded with producer Justin Raisen and a Wrecking Crew-styled session band, this is indeed a researched record and the opposite of a pastiche; Grohl’s recent tribute to David Lynch with “What’s Heaven Without You,” written in the wake of the Palisades fires of 2025, should serve as a clue of the multi-layered symbolism to expect from her.
The opener “THUM” sets a grunge template that the next two tracks complicate; “595” is the more interesting of the early gambits, its verses reminiscent of late-period Byrds folk-rock before the chorus drops into a heavier register; the drum-led, riff-driven outro is one of the record’s triumphs. “Bug In The Cake,” on the other hand, is a quieter puzzle; the sound gestures toward chaos and a certain license of youth, though Grohl delivers it with a poise that reads as confidently too-good-for-you rather than fully unhinged. Whether ironic or simply an artist holding her composure, the gap adds texture.
The middle clarifies the record’s ambition. “Last Day I Loved You” arrives louder in the mix; its post-chorus harmonies, processed until they read almost as an alarm, sit just behind the line “you’re gone” as an earnest warning, whether to the listener, subject or the self. “Big Memory” is the most overtly shoegaze-adjacent moment, ending, like several pieces here, with each instrument dropping its final note as though the band were walking offstage mid-thought.
“Mobile Star” is the album’s centrepiece; a southern gothic lullaby with shy, if any, guitar, an unrelenting low bass growl, synthetic broken keys and ambient detail (whispered laughter, processed screams and reversed-then-mirrored drums that mimic breath) that earns the cover art’s promise. With this track, Grohl ventures into drone territory, setting both a standard and a highlight for the record.
The back half oscillates between the controlled fury of “Often Others,” the bare folk-gothic balladry of “Applefish” and the riot grrrl swagger of “Cool Buzz.” “Applefish” is the emotional pivot; its guitar-and-voice vulnerability is punctured briefly by a rock interlude that recedes as quickly as it arrives, leaving the closing line “no past to escape to, greetings from the other side” entirely exposed. There is something of Persephone at the pomegranate about the way it stages a decision already made. “Pool Of My Dreams” is the record’s biggest swing; breathing pads pan across the stereo field, joined by strummed synthesiser chords, with no guitar anywhere in earshot. The surprising drum choice, closer to an 808 than to the acoustic rock drums the record has standardised, gives the song an almost lo-fi-pop atmosphere, though the lament at its centre pulls against the lightness of the production; the effect is less ambient-radio than spatial in a literal sense, the listener suspended somewhere galactic. It is the most experimental moment on the record; one that best rewards a second listen.
Finally, “Plastic Couch” closes on the most patient meditation of the lot; an acoustic, tape-warm folk piece whose final third erupts into full-band catharsis. It is a generous ending to a record that refuses to settle into one mode. If Grohl sounds, at moments, like Amy Winehouse imagined as a 90s riot grrrl, the comparison feels less reductive than it sounds, as she is already pulling from too many traditions to be flattened into any one of them. It is this very complexity that makes this debut such a brilliant one.
Leave a Comment