By Erin Christie
I went to school in Boston and after graduation, I spent another two years dwelling in the (amicably) rat-infested offshoot of the city known as Allston. During that two-year span, I became much more familiar with the Berklee music scene, largely due to my partner’s own gigs around the most popular and frequented house venues and local dives, and one musical act that imediately caught my eye and ear amongst the acts I encountered was Trophy Wife.
Spear-headed by musician McKenzie Iazetta, Trophy Wife exists amidst a sea of fellow creatives also clawing for their time in the sun, and yet, it doesn’t seem as if they have to try too hard to brand themselves on the side of the mind of anyone who hears them play or listens to their recordings. Whether encouraged by the visibly palpable synergy existing between the members of the live band, by McKenzie’s siren-esque crooning and absolutely grade-A sonic inclinations, or by the emotional tug of the honest-to-god devastation of many of their released tracks’ brutal vulnerability, one thing’s for sure — Trophy Wife’s unrelenting relatability and earworm inducing melodies are impossible to shake (but why would you want to?).
This week marks Trophy Wife’s triumphant return with a brand new EP entitled Voyeur, a 5-track project ripe with sincerity and speckled with whole-hearted, raw emotion.
Listening to Trophy Wife’s discography distinctly brings me back to the period when I first discovered Phoebe Bridgers — sonically, the two have very slight overlap (at least from my perspective), but on feeling alone, there’s a push-and-pull that weaves throughout their music, ranging from tense anguish to unapologetic romanticism. When I first came across Stranger In the Alps, that emotional dexterity Bridgers’ presented was immediately clear, and instantaneously enticing. With Trophy Wife, that feeling is replicated, but spruced up by the music’s pairing of heartfelt lyricism and glorious, shrieking noise. Ultimately, the power play (as referenced on single, “Linoleum”) makes for satisfying output, a cohesively rewarding listen that can easily accompany you on leisurely, or retrospective, autumn-time strolls.
In conclusion: Voyeur? But I barely even know ‘er!
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