By Lily Stern
Eliza McLamb released her debut album “Going Through It” on Jan. 19, partnering with producer Sarah Tudzin for all 12 tracks. While I follow her podcast, I’ve never listened to her music. I won’t wax poetic about her previous works or spend too long introducing her, but I will say one thing — she’s joining the ranks of my favorite artists. This may be one of my new favorite albums. Enjoy.
“Before”
Right from the opening, I knew it would be one of my favorite songs. The birds chirping in the background make me feel like I’m sitting by a summertime lakeside. Her lyrics are so illustrative and communicate the desire to return to the moment before you realize something earth-shattering about yourself or your life or receive big news, but somehow none of it is cliché. The vocal layering is also gorgeous — if the whole album is cohesive with this sound, it’s a smash hit.
“Glitter”
This track is one of the first singles from the release, and it’s immediately sonically different, adding an underlying static guitar riff under the vocal line. I wish her voice was more powerful throughout the song, but by the outro, her belted repetition of “that’s not what love means” is sufficiently compelling. I adore the storytelling again, devoted and pleading to a best friend who deserves better from her boyfriend.
“Mythologize Me”
This lead single offers commentary on the male gaze, mental illness, and girlhood, and the chorus is nothing short of cathartic. I admittedly get sick of the oversaturated pop-punk country-leaning tracks, but it comes down to lyricism again to make the track unique. I love the little snarky line at the end of each chorus. I’m so relieved that it packs a bit more punch with her voice and shows off her range.
“Punch Drunk”
Even my less-loved tracks on this album are great. I sound like a broken record, but I keep being shocked by McLamb’s vivid lyricism and consistently strong imagery. The line “I need to feel small to someone / Masochism’s just more fun” sits with me. I would have appreciated a stronger chorus following the drum/guitar buildup, though. Another note — McLamb stays within a comfortable, singable range in all of her songs, and that’s part of why they sound so good.
“Crybaby”
McLamb focuses most of this album on the impact of her childhood experiences, but also her criticism and sympathy for her sensitive younger self. “Crybaby” utilizes layered harmonies and a soft strings instrumental pulled back just enough for the vocals to stay in the forefront. “But I am not a cynic / I always need something to love” may be my new favorite lyric of all time. I appreciate this track for a sweet background listen, but it makes me slightly ill.
“16”
“16” is one of the later singles, and it takes a darker turn, bringing us deep into the singer’s trauma from being a child forced into adulthood. The lyrics are visceral and upsetting, furthered by the production choice of the vocals/instrumental droning on at a muffled pace. I almost feel like I’m intruding, unable to move so I can focus for the entire 3:24 duration of the track.
“Just Like Mine”
No critics or reviews have spotlighted this song enough for my taste. Her lyrics are so evocative, narrating the experience of seeking love, falling too hard, and ending it as your worst enemy. Her vocals are bright and clear as well. Even though the track and its added strings never swell too far past a delicate quiet, it’s one of my favorites.
“Bird”
I love the lilting singsong of the vocals on this track, mimicking a nursery rhyme with deceptively saddening, self-deprecating-to-a-fault lyrics. The production is intriguing; she adds frog croaks in the background of the steady rhythm, and it feels like a Fiona Apple-esque lullaby. I wish it had been longer — the track is just above 2:30, but she only sings for two minutes.
“Anything You Want”
Another single, and McLamb doesn’t hold back. The guitar, the chiming synth, and the screamed vocals in the background of the last chorus before the delicious decomposing outro creates the most robust track so far. Her voice dances over lyrics, full of tongue twisters and nearly-pretentious phrases that wouldn’t work without the self-awareness McLamb possesses (and considers her greatest strength and weakness). The track spells out the ideal of being known and wanting to be loved despite it, and I’m obsessed.
“Modern Woman”
This final single is objectively a record highlight. McLamb tackles the identity crisis of being a woman in modernity, especially with the plethora of societal forces telling us where we fit in before we decide who we are. She also addresses the marketability of being a sad girl singing pop songs — and hilariously (yet successfully) rhymes “Instagram” and “deli ham.” I had so much fun listening to the lyrics that I ignored the production and melody on my first listen, but they’re nothing crazy outside your usual indie pop fare; they still offer her great backup throughout the track.
“Strike”
The song proceeds with calm finger-plucking throughout, and keeps her vocals as the top layer, something I always appreciate. McLamb knows she falls too hard and too fast. She knows her issues and hangups, and she throws in everyday references that place you right there with her. The buildup to the chorus on the ascending melody line “but every time I think you strike you don’t” backed by orchestral swells hits like a punch to the gut and skyrockets it to one of my favorites. I adore her consistent use of instrumental interludes and outros — bring them back!
“To Wake Up”
This final track portrays the tranquil beauty in the unremarkable and a journey to find gratitude in smaller moments. Her voice may not be distinct among the entire industry, but it’s nothing if not pretty. I could fall asleep to this song. It’s simple, it’s minimalistic, but it’s beautiful. She reuses the finger-plucked guitar, the swelling strings, and a slight reverb, building a gorgeous base and a satisfying conclusion to the album.
Favorite songs: “Before,” “Strike,” “Just Like Mine,” “16,” “Anything You Want,” “To Wake Up”
There are no misses on the album. If I didn’t rate a song as highly, it was only due to my taste. McLamb avoided a back-half slump and arguably raised the quality of the record’s final tracks. Her lyricism is consistently fantastic, throwing in a range of commonplace phrases and advanced vocabulary reminiscent of Taylor Swift or Lizzy McAlpine — probably why I love it so much.
I’m a regular customer at the Sad Girl Indie Factory, so the album plays perfectly to my taste. However, McLamb does it better than most of her peers. She’s nothing drastically sonically different from her contemporaries, but her powerful thematic writing sets her apart as someone to watch.
Maybe I’m too generous, or biased as Eliza McLamb’s new biggest fan, but it’s a 9/10 album. Only to give her room to grow.
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