The Beaches Deftly Balance Anthems Alongside Tender Introspection in 'Blame My Ex'
Photo: Becca Hamel
The Beaches’ Blame My Ex, is finally here, and it’s a legacy in the making.
Referential title-track anthem, “Blame Brett,” opens the album with the familiar sass that has drawn hundreds of thousands of fans to The Beaches on TikTok. It sets the sly smile of the album’s tone, simultaneously honest and avoidant with indie rock vigor. The Beaches dive headfirst through the beloved singles, “What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Paranoid,” “Me & Me,” and “Everything Is Boring” before introducing listeners to a new one in “My Body ft Your Lips.”
Just listening to the instrumentals, this song has all the makings of a swoon-worthy dedication, with romantic guitars strumming over sunny, pleasant-paced drums. But tuning into the lyrics reveals that “My Body ft Your Lips” is anything but innocent. Lead singer, Jordan Miller, croons a sweet melody while she sings, “I wanna be your bitch / I wanna taste your spit… / Leave a mark on my innocence.” The understated flirtation of it creates a moody kind of seduction—guiltlessly risqué, The Beaches’ signature brand. This track also features seasoned indie rock band, Beach Weather, adding a second voice to the breezy sensuality.
Next comes “Kismet” with lustful and desperate rhythmic guitar chords begging for a cosmic kind of love affair. Then the perfect follow-up, “Shower Beer” reflects on the need for attention, both the destructive and faultless sides of it. The Beaches juxtapose the messiness of lines like “Falling in love has never stopped me / from taking shots with lots of men” with the sincerity of “Baby can you wash my hair? I’ve got my hands full, I was up all night…” It’s youthfulness wrapped up into a song, tying an endearing bow around its toxic body.
“Edge of the Earth” is fueled by queer longing, telling a wistfully sapphic story through lush layers of harmonies and an infectious chorus. There’s a bubblegrunge feel to “If A Tree Falls,” sullen at one moment and yearning the next. Then, listeners are launched into a sprint of a drum groove, as “Cigarette” picks up the pace for a steamy closer to Blame My Ex. This track is pure desire, in both sound and lyric, sketching out another sapphic story. Given the LGBTQIA+ presence within The Beaches’ fanbase and some of the band members themselves, it’s exciting to see such vibrant representation in this album. While queerness has become gradually more accepted in modern media, it’s often written about in the context of overcoming struggles. Throughout Blame My Ex, The Beaches give the queer community anthems about lusty infatuation and gut-wrenching crushes—anthems we deserve.
Blame My Ex is an instant classic for indie rock, punctuated with quips of The Beaches’ tongue-in-cheek cynicism while staying softened by an underlying current of youthful longing.
Listen to Blame My Ex below:
