On Madeline Kenney's 2020 album Sucker's Lunch, the Seattle-born singer-songwriter cautiously opened up her heart, giving herself permission to fall in love despite the inevitable destruction she knew lay ahead. If Sucker's Lunch was about making space for love, then her fourth studio album A New Reality Mind is about living in the wake of its loss.
Through its alt-pop soundscape and moonlit atmosphere, Kenney picks up the pieces of herself from this past love, only to realize the universal truth that one can't completely meld themselves back into the person they once were, for better or for worse. Monumental heartbreak shapes you into a new version of yourself — a new reality with a new state of mind.
A sudden breakup in 2022 launched Kenney into solitude, giving her the building blocks to A New Reality Mind and inadvertently continuing the themes of doubt and hyper self-awareness that coloured Sucker's Lunch. "Plain Boring Disaster" brings everything out into the light right from the jump — Kenney grapples with mistakes being an inherent part of the human experience, and the realization that making them herself doesn't make her special. Spacey synths and trippy percussion give listeners a taste of her internal world; dreamy and wistful but also riddled with disruptive bouts of gentle chaos.
Kenney tries her best to move on from the breakup and forgive herself for who she was in the relationship on "Superficial Conversation": "That way of living / I'm over it," she sings. "Reality Mind," according to Kenney, is about neuroplasticity — the brain undergoing a chemical metamorphosis after a significant life change. The hushed and tender sounds of the track are a reassuring hug; it can be comforting to know you're shedding your old skin after a chapter has closed, even if it's painful.
Hypnotic saxophones drift through the introspective "I Drew a Line," a realization that the stories we tell ourselves to feel better may not be true, which are then sharply contrasted with the melancholic chords on "It Carries On," a humbling recognition that life stops for no one even in moments of sorrow and confusion. Kenny conveys this transitional period between stepping into yourself and accepting what wasn't right for you in the past while also mourning those very feelings with equal amounts emotional maturity and uncertainty.
We hold a lot of ugly turmoil when we're grieving the end of something — "Red Emotion" captures that sensation of swallowing a lump in your throat when caught in a flurry of anger, but not wanting to outwardly express it. Blinking synths and echoey vocals feel like a fleeting emotion that burns bright and passes just as quickly as it came. Delightful Imogen Heap-esque harmonies that move in unison on "The Same Again" are heavenly on the ears, and "HFAM" — which Kenney refers to as her official breakup song — devastates with the lyrics "Songs don't teach you anything" and "Words don't mean anything." The track starts out numb and builds a pulse, like a fresh heartbreak where everything is empty and static before bursting with intensity. "Please let this house fall around me," Kenney begs to no one; a silent prayer to the self.
There isn't a more bittersweet sentiment to end the album on than "Expectations." Slow and mild like a calm surface to float on after a raging storm, Kenney asks for gentleness and empathy as she rediscovers herself once more. Through the thick fog of ache, there's also lightness and even excitement at finding her direction again, and loving and honouring herself enough to start over. On A New Reality Mind, Kenney understands that love and its death don't have to make sense, because whether she has it or not, the stronger and more realized versions of herself never quit evolving.
(Carpark Records)Through its alt-pop soundscape and moonlit atmosphere, Kenney picks up the pieces of herself from this past love, only to realize the universal truth that one can't completely meld themselves back into the person they once were, for better or for worse. Monumental heartbreak shapes you into a new version of yourself — a new reality with a new state of mind.
A sudden breakup in 2022 launched Kenney into solitude, giving her the building blocks to A New Reality Mind and inadvertently continuing the themes of doubt and hyper self-awareness that coloured Sucker's Lunch. "Plain Boring Disaster" brings everything out into the light right from the jump — Kenney grapples with mistakes being an inherent part of the human experience, and the realization that making them herself doesn't make her special. Spacey synths and trippy percussion give listeners a taste of her internal world; dreamy and wistful but also riddled with disruptive bouts of gentle chaos.
Kenney tries her best to move on from the breakup and forgive herself for who she was in the relationship on "Superficial Conversation": "That way of living / I'm over it," she sings. "Reality Mind," according to Kenney, is about neuroplasticity — the brain undergoing a chemical metamorphosis after a significant life change. The hushed and tender sounds of the track are a reassuring hug; it can be comforting to know you're shedding your old skin after a chapter has closed, even if it's painful.
Hypnotic saxophones drift through the introspective "I Drew a Line," a realization that the stories we tell ourselves to feel better may not be true, which are then sharply contrasted with the melancholic chords on "It Carries On," a humbling recognition that life stops for no one even in moments of sorrow and confusion. Kenny conveys this transitional period between stepping into yourself and accepting what wasn't right for you in the past while also mourning those very feelings with equal amounts emotional maturity and uncertainty.
We hold a lot of ugly turmoil when we're grieving the end of something — "Red Emotion" captures that sensation of swallowing a lump in your throat when caught in a flurry of anger, but not wanting to outwardly express it. Blinking synths and echoey vocals feel like a fleeting emotion that burns bright and passes just as quickly as it came. Delightful Imogen Heap-esque harmonies that move in unison on "The Same Again" are heavenly on the ears, and "HFAM" — which Kenney refers to as her official breakup song — devastates with the lyrics "Songs don't teach you anything" and "Words don't mean anything." The track starts out numb and builds a pulse, like a fresh heartbreak where everything is empty and static before bursting with intensity. "Please let this house fall around me," Kenney begs to no one; a silent prayer to the self.
There isn't a more bittersweet sentiment to end the album on than "Expectations." Slow and mild like a calm surface to float on after a raging storm, Kenney asks for gentleness and empathy as she rediscovers herself once more. Through the thick fog of ache, there's also lightness and even excitement at finding her direction again, and loving and honouring herself enough to start over. On A New Reality Mind, Kenney understands that love and its death don't have to make sense, because whether she has it or not, the stronger and more realized versions of herself never quit evolving.