Caroline Polachek Expresses Her Voice in a Thrillingly Original Framework on ‘Pang’

Adi Mehta

Caroline Polachek made a name for herself with synthpop duo Chairlift, and has gone on to undertake solo efforts under various monikers, releasing 2014’s “Arcadia” as Ramona Lisa, and 2017’s “Drawing the Target Around the Arrow” under her initials, C.E.P. “Pang” is her first album released under her actual name, and it is accordingly her most thoroughly realized work to date, showing a voice that was always confidently rising to an entirely new plane. For the new record, Polachek has teamed up with Danny L Harle of the cartoonish, cultish electronic music collective PC Music. Harle is as important as Polachek in achieving the sound of the album, and the set of emotionally charged songs about love (before, during, and after) recasts Polachek’s signature sound in a crisp, clean, thrillingly original format. 

“The Gate” brings the album to a languid start, a brief, surreal intro, with Polachek stretching out and slurring her lines as if she’s struggling to believe them herself. She sings, “Standing at the gate / I come here every day / Just to see your face,” and ends up consoling herself, “We will be okay.” On comes the title track, and we can hear the influence of Danny L Harle, except a million levels more subdued than his usual brand of lunatic EDM farce. There’s a toy box-type synth refrain and a sweeping chorus, but in an open, uncluttered arrangement. The opening lyrics are “There’s a look in your eyes when you’re hungry for me / It’s a beautiful knife cutting right where the fear should be,” making for a whirlwind of mixed emotions — desire and unease twisted and blended in a momentary rush. The rest of the song limits itself to the resulting sensation, with nearly nonstop repetitions of “Into me / Pang, and I go / Into you,” with a pause held just a bit extra long to add a little edge that makes all the difference. 

Out of the blue comes a country tremolo guitar chord, and then Harle promptly steps back in with his usual equipment. Polachek expands on the idea teased in the last task, beginning by asking, “Now, what is this?” and goes on to envision a club closing with fog machines, a rescued robin, skidding tires, and plenty more vivid imagery, with the chorus punctuated by a jarring, distorted drum fill, and ringing like an alternate universe pop song. “Hit Me Where It Hurts” falls into a natural sway, the most immediately catchy song so far. Polachek alternates between breathy, spoken verses, and designedly strained singing in the chorus, followed by blithe afterthoughts. The recurrent themes get edgier yet, with Polachek provoking, “Promise one day / You will hate me / But right now, just ride it out.” 

By the point of “I Give Up,” we are deep in relationship drama, giving new meaning to the titular “Pang.” Polachek sings the chorus line as if a gesture of liberation rather than a voicing of frustration. The production is masterful, keeping things sparse enough to let Polachek’s voice remain front and center, with every instrumental detail utilized to its fullest. “Look At Me Now” shows off Polachek’s singing chops more ostentatiously than previous tracks, with a gorgeous falsetto chorus, vaguely ‘90s in its melodic stylings, but unmistakably grounded in the present via its production. It’s a surefire single, and a reminder that in addition to all her conceptual focus, Polachek is a solid singer. At one point, she sings, “Now my friends all tell me… ‘Have you not been sleeping?’” which leads neatly into the next song, “Insomnia.” Interestingly, this song is the most serene of the set, as if it could serve as a cure for insomnia. Polachek has recently been dabbling in baroque classical singing, and it comes out slightly in the rather ornate chorus. The way she bends and glides is otherworldly, and this song is a gripping, poignant experience. Harle fills the space with just enough aural detail, with haunting, ominous tones lurking beneath Polachek’s soaring vocals, making the song a dramatic centerpiece. Apparently still with plenty of demons to expel, Polachek moves on to “Ocean of Tears,” a surprisingly giddy, effervescent tune that sonically could have been pulled from Charli XCX’s catalogue, particularly her work with Sophie, of the same production collective as Harle. The lyrics again contrast with the melody, with Polachek singing, “The only thing that’s separating you and me tonight / Ah, is an ocean of tears.”

“Hey Big Eyes” is a slightly saccharine moment, with Polachek’s fractured vocals accentuated by echoing stutters, as beats emerge and vanish to carry her tangential excursions. The amorous neurosis appears to have reached a late stage, with lyrics like “You’re here next to me / Except you’re not.” “Go As a Dream” effectively conveys the feelings of a very specific headspace, with a capacious, plucked melody loosely framing Polachek’s free whims, the stuttering echoes this time approaching Laurie Anderson experiments. Next comes the brilliantly titled “Caroline, Shut Up,” which totally lives up to its title. Polachek sings, “Sometimes, I wonder / Do I love you too much? / Then I tell myself, ‘Caroline, shut up,’” with the titular line split into emphatic separated syllables. She goes on to issue a series of dares, provoking, “I dare you to come closer… I dare you to stay with me.” One can’t help but sympathize with the poor object of this crazed infatuation. 

The album is actually full of entertaining titles, such as the next track, “So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings,” a universally relatable sentiment succinctly expressed. For this one, Harle reimagines the ‘80s from an unmistakably millennial vantage point. It’s a feat rarely achieved, diving headlong into the most kitsch era-signifiers and presenting them in a thoroughly modern way, going backwards and forwards in time simultaneously. There’s a synth solo styled after a garish sax solo. It could even be a treated sax, as it’s a mystery what exactly Harle gets up to with his alien sonic creations. Polachek has a rare talent for peppering her songs with the stuff of revelations in a most unassuming manner. Such is the case with “Door,” in which the refrain rings “You open the door / To another door, to another door,” with the repeated melody evoking infinity mirrors. Finally, the album comes to closure with “Parachute,” aptly titled, considering the dramatic heights built up at this point. A spacious, ethereal arrangement, consistent with the imagery the title would suggest, the song is the perfect, fluid fade out, with Polachek singing, “And blooming overhead, the parachute / I’ve got to trust it now.”     

“Pang” is a one-of-a-kind album. Polachek has adventurously dabbled in various sounds over the years, and her already distinctive voice has grown steadily more singular. Her music has always thrilled subtly, with elegantly understated songcraft and consummate performance kept modestly at bay. It couldn’t be further from Danny Harle’s aesthetic — supersaturated, neon parody of parody in a post-ironic EDM universe. Perhaps opposites really do attract, as the pairing is a match made in heaven. Polachek’s latest work is emotionally hefty, yet light in spirit, an exploration of the quagmire that is love and life, expressed in a truly unprecedented form. 

“Pang” is available Oct. 18 on Apple Music.