Debby Friday’s self-described “bitchpunk” brand of electronic music brings the mosh pit to the dance floor. The experimental musician’s debut studio album, Good Luck, uses glitchy production but avoids overt hyperpop clichés. It’s not hard to imagine Friday opening for Ministry in the early ’90s. Her music is hyped up and energetic, with song titles in ALL CAPS, not to put too fine a point on it. Even the near-ballad “HEARTBREAKERRR” employs broken beats and strikes of white noise to create a cacophony of chaos.
Good Luck was inspired by Friday’s college days, where she experienced a revelation at a Toronto rave. The album’s maximalism alternates between menace, melancholy, and joy, often with all three comingling at once. And yet, the production on tracks like the eerie “SAFE” is surprisingly measured and well-balanced, with no instrument allowed to drown out the others. This is obviously deliberate, as are the moments when Friday’s voice is blotted out.
Friday comes off like a dominatrix on several songs, and even likens herself to God on the boastful “PLUTO BABY,” but this posturing is smartly counterbalanced on tracks like “LET U DOWN,” on which she acknowledges her flaws: “I’ve been a mean girl, I’ve been a dream crusher…I’ve been god-awful all my life.” Noise functions as armor for Friday’s more introspective feelings on “SO HARD TO TELL,” on which she seems to speak to her younger self. As electronic sounds swirl around her, she warns, “The big girls, they do not cry/Danger, danger/Can’t you see for yourself?”
The album’s sonic vocabulary remains fairly consistent, but it similarly runs through a varied array of moods. “I GOT IT,” for example, mixes a melody composed of bubbling synthesizers and a distorted electronic bassline with forbidding metal percussion and a Spanish-language verse from Uñas, of the Montreal electronic duo Peleda. Good Luck fits roughly into similar experiments by Backxwash or JPEGMAFIA, but it’s even harder to pin down to a single genre. It’s an album that testifies to the liberating potential of making a racket.
Since 2001, we've brought you uncompromising, candid takes on the world of film, music, television, video games, theater, and more. Independently owned and operated publications like Slant have been hit hard in recent years, but we’re committed to keeping our content free and accessible—meaning no paywalls or fees.
If you like what we do, please consider subscribing to our Patreon or making a donation.
