Gretel Hänlyn's 'Head of the Love Club' Is a Consuming, Intoxicating Sophomore Effort
Gretel Hänlyn’s Head of the Love Club is a boundary-breaking addition to the indie-goth-pop icon’s unrivaled discography. Using occasional pop devices to fuel her punk-adjacent eccentricities, Hänlyn has written an EP made in heaven for lovers of Fiona Apple, Mitski, and Mazzy Star, and is a modern gateway to all things grunge.
“Dry Me” tells us everything we need to know. Raw, grungy guitars meet Hänlyn’s low resonance and half-spoken delivery for an avant-garde, '90s alternative-inspired opener. Subtle instrumental touches like a cascading acoustic piano and fitful drums welcome us to the rule-breaking dreamscape that is Head of the Love Club, where pop boundaries are smashed through with a post-grunge uppercut.
“Drive” keeps the ambiance alive as spiraling, looping electronic drums dance under distorted, hooky vocals. Meanwhile, “King of Nothing” is a work of lyrical finesse, punching cleverly crafted lines over dissonant chords. With nonchalance, Hänlyn spits out, “You’re the king of nothing at all, you huel-fueled diet / fake tan fucker...” “Wiggy” is the catalyst for the EP’s shift in pace, maintaining the blithe, grown-up-teenage-dirtbag tone but relaxing the arrangement. Hänlyn’s signature unbothered cynicism coins us the iconic line, “Falling in love isn’t weak it's gross...”
While “Little Vampire” flaunts its '90s grunge flair, title track, “The Head of the Love Club,” is a witchy standout on the lineup. A gritty, distorted guitar marches out the beat while ethereal background vocals set the moonlit, smoke-shrouded scene. It’s a love song, but Hänlyn-style—every twinge of desire is matched with scorn, ambling through Mitski-esque melodies.
“Easy Peeler” is fringed with delicacy, a gentle sort of sadness that Head of the Love Club doesn’t reveal to us on other tracks. The acoustic fingerpicking lilts over the distorted bass line in a satisfying contradiction—soft meets steadfast. “Today (Can’t Help but Cry)” rounds out the EP with a hopefulness that masterfully balances the bitterness we begin with in “Dry Me.” A wistful guitar riff loops over droning synths, evoking a bit of '80s, The Cure-style nostalgia. The light arrangement lets Hänlyn’s voice soar, and listeners will finish Head of the Love Club with an addictive blissfulness.
Listen to Head of the Love Club below:
