Glitter

There is an almost reckless brightness to this song — crunchy, overdriven guitars stacked so thick they feel like a wall of candy-colored noise, drums that hit with the full-body satisfaction of a door slamming on the way out. Eva Hendricks' voice rides the top of all of it, pitched high and girlish in a way that the production refuses to let feel delicate — she's shouting through a megaphone wrapped in pink cellophane. The tempo never lets up, and the verses tumble forward like someone running without looking where they're going. What makes the song interesting is the gap between its surface joy and the desperation underneath — the lyrics circle around wanting to be seen, wanting to matter, wanting something to stick, and the sheer loudness of the music reads less like celebration and less like a cry for attention and more like both at once, indistinguishable. It belongs squarely in the lineage of 90s power-pop — Weezer's Blue Album, early Superchunk — but filtered through a millennial-female perspective that gives the hunger a different texture. You'd reach for this in a car going too fast, windows down, or at the moment before walking into something scary when you need to feel five feet taller.