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Photo: Le3ay

Wallice’s newest EP, Mr Big Shot, is a moody flush of textures, leaning into grit to depict the youthful angst of realizing adulthood is here to stay. It smiles through grinding teeth, screaming the burning questions of growing up through alt-pop production. 

“Best Friend” invites listeners into a wavey synth soundscape, setting the scene for the cinematic universe of Mr Big Shot from the first chord. Wallice is a storyteller through and through, wielding '90s indie rock tension and emotive instrumentals to launch us into a coming-of-age tale. “Best Friend” transports us to the middle of a high school party while slow-motion strangers and friends stumble drunkenly around. It’s a visceral feeling of aloneness, colored by chromatic motifs and the fuzz of Wallice’s token vocal stacks. 

Lead single, “Loser at Best,” showcases this textural genius that courses throughout the EP. The drums hit with a dry, punky punch while a staticky synth bass croons out a melody overtop, and even the quietest moments refuse to let reverb’s earnest echo take over the track. It’s the work of an artist who has gotten over the pressures to sound pretty and can abandon the guise of a pop structure for the sake of the experience that suits the song. “Loser at Best” embraces this, feeding us listeners the earworm chorus of a lifetime, but only giving it to us once, instead, spiraling into an introspective outro. The refined grit of the chorus is now complemented by the raw intimacy of this breakdown, demonstrating Wallice’s madwoman mastery. 

“Quarterlife” gives us a good glimpse into the overarching theme of Mr Big Shot, tapping into the anxieties of growing up and shedding our youthful naiveties. Wallice muses, “Maybe I should start keeping a running tab of all my feelings before I jump into the deep end / But you know I love to swim.” The slightly-fatalistic feelings continue in “Prepaid Wireless,” paired with an edge of desperation as we step into the self-sabotage scenery of “Why Do You Love Me?” Intrusive thoughts get to rush uninhibited as Wallice wails alongside guitar melodies. 

“disappear” closes out the EP with an indie rock anthem shrouded in a Radiohead-colored cloak, nodding to the band’s 2007 song, “Weird Fishes / Arpeggi.” After whirling listeners through glittering guitar arpeggios, Wallice shatters the facade of composure, and the chorus explodes into a cacophonous celebration of textures. Robotic voices spell out the title letter by letter—like a damning cheer chant—and layers of noise awash over us. Wallice then throws away the melody in the next verse, instead adopting a rhythmic speak-singing that moans over dizzying instrumentals. We get to experience both sides of the burnout Wallice sings of—the fatigue of the verses juxtaposed by the punch-drunk frustration of the chorus. 

Rippling with complimentary innocence and wisdom, Wallice’s Mr Big Shot is a coming-of-age triumph. 

Listen to Mr Big Shot below: