REVIEW: Not Ready to Grow Up
Five years after its release, the album continues to haunt its listeners.
Irene C
Singer-songwriter Giselle.
Music has been a changing industry for independent artists. With social media constantly making stars out of viral moments and artists like Tinashe and Chance The Rapper becoming success stories through their independent artistry, it can seem as though it’s easier now to “make it” without a label. However, there are more independent artists than ever before (with Spotify boasting over 11 million) struggling to break the surface of an overflowing river. Most go unheard, but someone makes a ripple every now and then—Giselle is one of those people.
In November 2017, singer-songwriter Giselle released her debut album, 'Not Ready to Grow Up'. The album is a reflection on the tribulations of independent artists, misogyny, and abuse in the industry, and it couldn’t be released at a better time. The #MeToo movement had just kicked off, and the year before saw the beginning of the highly publicized Kesha v. Dr Luke lawsuit. Since the album’s release, we’ve had the Weinstein, Cosby, and R. Kelly convictions. Many artists are vocal about exhausting contracts, sexual harassment, and abuse at the hands of producers and labels. The world also witnessed Britney Spears finally being free from horrific conservatorship.
After all of this, ‘Not Ready To Grow Up’ feels like an astounding prophecy, and its seer a keen, crestfallen observer.
While initially an opera singer, Giselle incorporates her classical training into her dream pop music. With an unearthly sound and raw songwriting, ‘Not Ready To Grow Up’ calls to mind Fiona Apple with more expansive production and Lana Del Rey without the masquerading grandiose (or the white supremacy). It invokes the fever dream of a white-hot summer and the aching loneliness of a harsh winter. It is both a shout and a whimper, a defiant aversion and a plea to belong. All of these things, conflicting yet fitting, perfectly articulate Giselle’s frame of mind.
Epigraph
The unsettling intro beckons us into the story and invites us into the singer’s disarrayed stream of consciousness.
Not Ready To Grow Up (sonically similar to: Million Years Ago - Adele)
The first song immediately throws us into the deep end. Lyrics like “killed the girl who dreamt about walking down the aisle/paying debts back, carrying a child” paint a picture of Giselle’s life and point out the struggle of women as a collective. No matter their social class, women are constantly expected to sacrifice their dreams on the altar of bigger dreams in ways their male counterparts never have to (the most recent mainstream examples being Gisele Bündchen and Serena Williams). Giselle admits how difficult it is to sing in front of an empty crowd and confides that she’s had enough of the failures. In a heartbreaking proclamation, she states that she will "sing from up above" from now on.
Child Idols (sonically similar to: Hazy - ChloexHalle)
If Disney was ever self-aware enough to make a film on the dangers of the industry, this would surely be the villain’s song. Beautiful, albeit disturbing, Giselle croons and warns about the industry’s predatory tendencies and how it creates a cycle of supply and demand from consumers, “idolizing babies, say it’s okay” “idolizing beauties/want what you can’t have”.
Is Giselle singing about what she’s observed or what she’s experienced?
I Woke Up feat. Raydar Ellis (sonically similar to: Fucks With Myself - Banks)
In the most uptempo song on the album, Giselle angrily belts, “Used me till it crippled me, then threw me away” —whether she’s singing about her own experience or that of another’s, Giselle’s voice encompasses fury and pain that she hurls onto hard beats. In an industry designed to chew people up and spit them out, writing from the perspective of what happens after you’ve been spat out is clever. Waking up to abuse and choosing to leave the situation takes great strength, and Giselle has crafted a powerful ode to self-care.
The Canary feat. Avon Junkies (sonically similar to: Skyfall - Adele)
A perfect audition to write a James Bond theme song. Sinister horns and electric guitar of the punk-ska band Avon Junkies assist Giselle in telling the story of Maria Callas and Aristotle Onassis— a famous opera singer. Callas gave up her illustrious career to be with billionaire Onassis, who returned the favor by abandoning her for Jackie Kennedy. It is said that Callas died of a broken heart and the accompanying music video features Giselle flinging herself into a raging sea. This is the perfect story to tell in an album about women's sacrifice.
Fuck’Em Brand’em Leave’em (sonically similar to: A Mistake - Fiona Apple)
In the intro to this track, a man details how he uses women sexually and promptly abandons them. Giselle bitingly shares that this was something told to her when she was little, “this is how the story went/looked a child in the eyes with no regret”. Children will listen (word to Sondheim), and the words and behavior of adults leave an impression on them forever. Not only does this call to mind the misogyny young girls face from family members, but it also reminds one of the abusive, exploitative nature of the male-producer-and-female artist relationship.
Will You Be There (sonically similar to: Last Words of A Shooting Star - Mitski)
Slowing things down, Giselle croons a gentle ballad to her fanbase, thanking them for helping make her dreams come true and pleading for their continued support. On the track, Giselle repeatedly asks herself why she bothers to keep going and implores her audience to stick by her as she wanders, discovering new paths within herself and her art.
Remember (Walking In The Sand) (sonically similar to: Love or Confusion - Jimi Hendrix)
The only cover on the album, initially recorded by girl group The Shangri Las, this song recently had a resurgence as a mega-viral TikTok sound (oh no, oh no!). Giselle turns this classic on its head, implementing the doo-wop harmonies and claps of the original record onto a ripping 60s psychedelic rock track. She travels back and forth, whispering softly to belting her heartbreak over the electric guitar.
Erosion (sonically similar to: Great Gig in The Sky - Pink Floyd)
In an unrequited love song, Giselle spins the tale of a woman fading into nothingness after the end of a relationship. Erosion feels like a hazy fever dream and calls to mind the fate of The Little Mermaid in the original Hans Christian Anderson fairytale over Pink Floyd-inspired production. A personal favorite in the Women Who Just Start Screaming genre, Giselle uses her classical training to shift into spectral wails. Giselle repeats, “this is my last sunset without you”.
Erosion feels like a swan song, and perhaps it is— for other than a neo-disco single released in 2019, this is the last of Giselle’s original music. Maybe she has, in fact, ‘killed the girl’— wiped out this version of herself and is now lying in wait, readying herself to become anew, a phoenix rising from the ashes of its design. Or perhaps she has nothing left to say- when you’ve already cut yourself open and let the audience pull back the flesh, what more can you give?
Consumers are more demanding than ever, nagging creatives for more, more, more. Mitski’s latest album ‘Laurel Hell’ discusses the pedestal she has been placed on that makes it impossible to please people. Even Queen Bey herself has been experiencing hate from her own fanbase for the lack of visuals for her latest album, ‘RENAISSANCE’. At times, audiences feel more like enemies than fans. One can’t fault Giselle for refusing to give in to any pressure. Nevertheless, the fact that this album is both her first and last word reminds me of Macbeth's Tomorrow soliloquy.
“Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more…”
Despite being her album debut, ‘Not Ready To Grow Up' feels like a haunting goodbye, a final shout into the oversaturated void, an echo in an unending cave of black.
You can listen to Giselle on Spotify | Apple Music | YouTube
Irene C is a screenwriter, essayist, and poet hailing from New Jersey, but try not to hold that against her. Her Substack, which she is embarrassingly proud of (though she swears she has more credentials than just that), can be followed here.
