Public Storage

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Signed to her first record deal at 17, Los Angeles singer-songwriter Hana Vu presaged Billie Eilish and Olivia Rodgrigo as a reminder of the very real pains of being a teenager. Her voice as wry and deadpan as Nico and sometimes even Nick Cave, she hasn't exactly lightened up five years later. Vu describes her own music as "very invasive and intense"—which is a way of saying, it's not passive listening; even if she doesn't sound like early Hole, she certainly shares the same raw spirit. "Here are my bruises/ All my dents and my fuses/ Everything that I've got to prove," she sings on the title track, cataloging the things she doesn't believe in (failure, family); the drums drop out, then return stronger than before, as if fueled by having nothing left to lose. (It should be noted that Public Storage's horrifying, rotten-mouth album art might even be too grotesque for Courtney Love.) Balanced by a sense of sweeping drama and glimmering '80s ambience, "Keeper" is dripping with ache: "Oh, I take and steal and throw all my love away/ 'Cause you're surrounding me/ Oh, I'm fake, unreal/ And all other evil things you think that I could be." Sometimes Vu goes all in: "Gutter" is a goth dirge, punctuated by '90s fuzz guitar; same for "My House," only with a little spooky levity from what sounds like woodwind. "This is the end of the world/ 'Cause everything seems to get worse/ And all living things they fall on me/ And crush me into dirt," Vu sings, making clear this is not Olivia Rodrigo pouting, "Where's my fucking teenage dream?" She goes positively poppy on the bass-forward bounce of "Aubade," which has a ring of St. Vincent dancefloor cool to it; but don't be fooled: "If you stay the night/ I'll have a new face/ Someone with a bright eye/ Nothing like me." "Heaven" combines poking strings, shoegaze guitar and a chill drum beat. "World's Worst" is so light and folky as to be almost new age (there's even a bit of perky flute, for god's sake), as Vu lists a litany of self-complaints: "I'm nothing but the world's worst color ... I am just the world's worst talker ... I promise I'm the world's worst lover." Getting older provokes existentialism and misery on "Everybody's Birthday," a Depeche Mode-like track that combines a stuttering drum beat, brattily sneering guitar and Vu trying out a higher register. She told NME of the inspiration behind "Maker": "I didn't grow up religious, but I always felt like, if there is some sort of God, he's really mean. I felt this really punitive, oppressive force." Infused with unexpected banjo, the song itself is dreamy, even as she begs, "Can you make me anybody else?/ Maker, make me... Breaker, break me." © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz