Stella Donnelly spools out the kind of cuddle-core guitar pop that traditionally goes best with cardigan sweaters and shy glances in the dustiest recesses of the local used bookstore. But the Australian singer-guitarist is hardly the retiring type. Your personality traits dont count/If you put your dick in someones face/And no, its never too late/We sat there silently while you kept your job/And your place and your six-figure wage, she sings on her #Metoo masterpiece Old Man.
Donnellys gently conversational singing and acerbic drollery evokes a vaunted lineage of indie-rock real-talkers from Jonathan Richman and Belle & Sebastian to Courtney Barnett and Free Cake For Every Creature; musically she recalls the spare, strummy charm of K Records champs like the Softies or the cocktail-hour prettiness of Ivy. But Beware of the Dogs is a triumph on its own terms, going from high point to high point as she maps the pains, pleasures and anxieties of her personal patch of twentysomething bohemia.
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Donnelly first got attention for her 2017 song Boys Will Be Boys a meticulous indictment of rape culture thats an unshakably powerful centerpiece here. Your father told you that youre innocent/told ya women rape themselves, she sings over a guitar thats pointedly ironic in its reassuring softness, making every line feel more devastating than the last. Elsewhere, she wields her wit as a weapon against a world that shows little interest in meeting her expectations Tricks takes on the perils of dating a selfish drunk and You Owe Me is a casual kiss-off to a life-sucking job. Shes just as funny during the albums moments of warmth and tenderness; see Mosquito, a charming dream-pop ode to gluten free affection (Your name is up in lights and baby you deserve it/I want to bring you cake back home from work but youre allergic).
This being an indie album in 2019, her vibrator makes a prominent appearance (on a Tuesday afternoon, naturally). But slacker recreation always leads to deeper truths. Watching Telly turns what should be a simple, funny bit of couch-jockey comedy into a commentary on the inextricable link between sexism and capitalist commodification. The combination of humor and craft means she always makes it out of the most harrowing situations looking like a hero. Even in a song like Die, where her reckless mate nearly drives off a cliff that seems more literal than metaphorical, the glazed guitars, sunny Casio beat and pure spirit of her songwriting keeps her shaky reality rolling forward.