Robin Edwards’ cavalier and yet biting approach as Lisa Prank is both emotionally cathartic and pastel-driven. Contemporary sonnets of pain and self-awareness are spattered, Jackson Pollock-style, with caffeine and listlessness. It’s a pirouette of bubblegum snark and tactile fear. A composite sketch of fun and eye-lolling exhaustion. Edwards acknowledges her surroundings, memories, and hope with a sort of barley soaked cheer. Life is ridiculous, fun, and weird. Lisa Prank’s album, ‘Adult Teen’, dots these reveries with the glib elation of a Bob Ross paintbrush – only, you know, radder.
The album’s cover – Edwards leaning in, feet confidently planted with the ferocious self-assurance of Joan Jett – has the best art of the year so far. The warm colors, hovering objects of personal affinity, and tarot card theme that flanks Edwards is totally indicative of the artist’s sonic compass: uncompromising confidence, confessional lyrics, and humorous lilts.
The quiet, incendiary introduction of “Starting Again” christens the album with a conversational approach: abrupt, hushed, and just short of eavesdropping – imagine wandering into an exchange at a party between two people that know each other too much (and too little). It’s an opening salvo that grabs your attention. “Luv Is Dumb” is one of our favorite songs of the year (the chorus is so perceptive, full of realization, and energetically unapologetic that we cant get enough). Meanwhile, “Why Cant We Just Dance?” is equal parts tenacity and resignation. Construction paper aesthetics with underlying tension. Throughout ‘Adult Teen’, Edwards mixes levity with the flickering embers of past experiences. ‘Adult Teen’ is tongue in cheek, anecdotal, and full of wry smiles. It’s trampled streamers from last night’s party. It’s therapeutic, immediate, and unpretentious in its dance of ideas and themes. Love is a game of dodgeball where spontaneity, pain, and old bruises are the currency – and yet the adrenaline is forever thrilling.
Score: Lisa Prank forever out of Lisa Prank forever