Hot and Cold

Ex Hex operate in a zone where power-pop's love of the hook meets garage rock's commitment to volume, and "Beast" is one of the cleaner expressions of that synthesis. The guitar work from Mary Timony is the song's soul — riff-forward, melodic without being soft, landing somewhere between Tom Petty's anthemic clarity and Cheap Trick's slightly dangerous shimmer. The production has a brightness that Deap Vally would never permit themselves, a sheen that catches the light without obscuring the rawness underneath: the snare snaps cleanly, the bass sits warm and present, and everything feels like it was played live in the same room by three people who have played together long enough to trust each other. Timony's voice carries a kind of earned confidence — not shouting, not straining, just inhabiting the melody with the ease of someone who's been doing this for twenty years and knows exactly where to push and where to float. The lyrical terrain is romantic obsession tipping into recklessness, the feeling of being caught in something that consumes your judgment. It's a familiar theme elevated by specificity of feeling — the song understands that desire doesn't feel like a choice from the inside. This is music for people who grew up on the classic rock canon but needed it to be made by women with their own sensibility. It would feel completely at home on a summer afternoon playlist, windows open, the kind of song that makes driving feel like a small event.