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Shunkan, Marina Sakimoto's LA-based rock project, triumphantly and emotionally makes its comeback with the release of Kamikaze Girl. The album, bearing all of Sakimoto's introspective and raw lyricism, marks her first full-length album in over five years. It's a unique blend of soaring guitars, gut-punching lyrics, and introspective storytelling, a bold and confident step forward that feels overdue yet perfectly timed for what the scene at large needs right now.

The album's opener, "Hellbound," is a hazy, melancholic anthem that reflects on self-destruction and hope. The track blends floaty, melancholic shoegaze with its echoing reverberation and slow-building grunge. Dreamy guitar lines and sweet vocals make it a standout introduction to the record's vulnerable, emotional core. Constantly building upon itself, this track builds to the most satisfying drop, repeating the cycle over and over again, almost as if hinting at listeners that big things are coming.

Moving past the brooding and cinematic "Sidekick," the record dials things up on the following track, "Usual Suspects." Channeling early 2000s emo with punchy riffs and emotional urgency, she blisteringly investigates self-sabotage and the struggle to piece life together amid chaos. With a cheeky nod to It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia's iconic and incredibly meme'd red-string conspiracy, it captures the chaotic spiral of self-examination with a balance of grit and grace, delivering an intense yet beautiful musical experience. It's perhaps the most viscerally "emo" track on the album, fueled with distorted guitars and a cathartic chorus that feels like a scream into the void, and who doesn't love that?

The album's penultimate track, "Prettier," is the most emotionally layered addition to the collection, navigating themes of self-worth and identity within relationships. Beginning with a slow, pulsing beat, the artist sings, "I could be prettier, but I wouldn't be me." As the track journeys forth, she croons, "I want to make you cry so you know I'm not weak," before guitars burst under her like fireworks. The song's final minute is dedicated wholly to a blown-out riff as she coos wordlessly over it, audibly seething, transforming the track into a gritty crescendo of distortion and rage.

"Gilligan's Island" is a brilliant closer that definitely could've been a '90s radio hit in another life. Beautifully ambiguous, melancholic, and heartwarming, it doesn't give closure, but instead drifts off as it comes to a close, leaving listeners with the sense that not all endings need answers. "Somehow I am still alive," Sakamoto belts before ceding the spotlight to a low-key guitar solo. When she spits out, "We're barely surviving" in the song's chorus, it is a privilege, reminding listeners that sometimes being caught in a moment is enough.

Overall, this album is emo for the next generation. It has one foot in the past and one foot looking forward to the future. It possesses the guitars, lyrics, and sarcasm that scream early 2010s emo thrived on. Still, it also incorporates modern production techniques and addresses contemporary issues, covering everything from failing relationships to nepotism babies and today's nearly inescapable corporate hellscapes.

Listen to Kamikaze Girl below: