No, not a holdover from Amnesty 2001…
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[6.38]
Michael Hong: The predominant theory of abuse is that the very nature of it is cyclical — that every incident is followed by a period of self-doubt and questioning by the abused and a return to normalcy, uncertain of the fault of the previous events. Eva Hendricks has spoken at length about the experience that led to “Chatroom” and the release and empowerment she hoped to give other survivors, but there’s still not enough credit given to her for how effectively she flips the cycle of abuse back at her abuser in a whirlpool of scorn, derisive sneers, and taunts in a massive “fuck you” against an abuser. “Chatroom” lures you in with a startling confession, one delivered with a tinge of reluctance but devoid of the shame, self-doubt, and apologies that come in that final phase of the cycle of abuse. It thrusts you into the center of its taunts, looping the angry defiance of the chorus and the biting sneer of the refrain. Hendricks’ sharp lyricism is made all the more powerful by her performance: an eye-roll on the line “everybody knows you’re the second coming” becomes a devastating snarl backed by the use of autotune and a dead-eyed sneer in the final line. Her second verse layered over the refrain sounds like an act of resistance backed by her bandmates and the survivors of sexual abuse. But “Chatroom” isn’t just this ultimate act of defiance, it’s a piece that’s as wonderfully melodic as it is scathing, and as hopefully joyous too. It’s bolstered by Charly Bliss’ adoration of pristine pop music, exploding with a sparkling guitar line, one that shimmers in the light to make the song out to be a celebration of survival. Watching Charly Bliss absolutely shred the hell out of “Chatroom” to close out their live set remains the highlight of my year, despite seeing Carly Rae Jepsen perform “Cut to the Feeling” in the exact same venue a month earlier. It’s a demonstration of the band’s ability to create ecstatic joy and life-affirming hope out of trauma and suffering and remains the year’s greatest little piece of invincibility.
[10]
Kylo Nocom: I love how the chorus doubles as a neener-neener taunt to dickheads about their impermanence and an anthem for audiences to sing along to until they believe in it, repetition as both irritant and irresistible hook. The ethos of “Chatroom” wins me over: an empowerment anthem that seeks the source of pain and shuts it down completely.
[9]
Iain Mew: Even before fully understanding the subject it was clear that the ugliness of sound was intentional. The proportion of it doesn’t quite work for me, though — they try to bridge hooky thrill and catharsis in a way which I can see the potential power of, but end up somewhere in between the two that doesn’t fully work for either.
[5]
Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Something about Eva Hendricks’ voice doesn’t quite sit right with me; it reminds me of how adults change their voices when they sing to children. The vibe is supposed to be Grouplove/Walk the Moon-esque pop rock fun, but “Chatroom” veers a little too far into Disney Channel/Rebecca Black territory to be enjoyable.
[2]
Nortey Dowuona: A sloping synth riff leads a hopping drum line, then pulls in a soft, woozy guitar and synthesises with Charly’s plaintive, folding voice. Coolly and wryly it brushes off the desperate men clinging to the edges of her voice, like flies on sugar water.
[6]
Alfred Soto: Chat rooms formed an essential crucible for my gay identity, and Charly Bliss nails the sense of triumph after the traps set for potential lovers suddenly spring. The euphoria of not committing, however — that’s what Eva Kendricks’ voice and the rush of the guitars simulate. As familiar to me as one of Jupiter’s moons.
[6]
Katherine St Asaph: In which Charly Bliss leapfrog a generation; where on Guppy Eva Hendricks sounded eerily like Kay Hanley, here she sounds eerily like Jessie Malakouti in Shut Up Stella. Also in which the leapfrogging apparently took a lot of energy. No matter how cathartic “Chatroom” was to write, or how much it might be live, the recording sounds audibly drained — almost to the point of sophomore slump, but Young Enough has better.
[6]
Oliver Maier: Not my favourite from this year’s (brilliant) Young Enough — the octave-jumping bassline is a little sluggish and the melody from the middle eight of “Capacity” sounds better there than it does on “Chatroom”‘s whirring synth riff — but still brimming with the cathartic fervour that makes the album such a joy. In a song about the narratives that spring up around a relationship and its secret traumas, the gap between public and private truths, Hendricks chooses every word carefully, and sings like it. By the time the hook rolls around she’s hollering with fierce, gleeful abandon, but savouring every syllable.
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