MX Lonely - All Monsters
7.5
If we know how to attribute the emergence of the term “shoegaze” to a specific source, namely the British press (and in particular Melody Maker), we cannot point to a similarly clear authorship for the neologism “grungegaze” beyond generic communities such as Reddit. After all, the label itself is rather elusive and resistant to fixed boundaries. Yet we are talking about a phenomenon that has now become widespread: even if in Italy it has not yet gained significant traction, in the US it already has its own decade-long genealogy, stretching from Title Fight and DIIV all the way to bands like Nothing and Deafheaven. What brings together the disillusioned, visceral roughness of grunge and the misty reverberations of shoegaze are also MX Lonely, a Brooklyn-based band that since 2022 has joined the chorus of voices singing about the fluid and precarious Gen Z condition. After the particularly “layered” debut Cadonia (2022)—a record widely considered more suited to studio listening than live performance due to its dense layering of guitars and synths—the band returned this year with a sophomore release titled All Monsters. And if the title offers a clue, the tracklist confirms just how deeply the work is rooted in a Gen Z spirit: in the instability of the self, in the relentless search for one’s inner Monster, and in the predictable use of humor as a shield (one of those things along the lines of “if you’re too emotionally exposed, you’re cringe”). The monstrous is something inclusive; it is not a moral exception, but a human condition. There is no sharp distinction between “good” and “bad”—we all carry something ambiguous and contradictory within us, and precisely for this reason:
“all monsters go to heaven”
That said, whether one agrees or disagrees with this tendency toward heightened emotional self-awareness (often said to be the product of a youth shaped by instability—although several of the writer’s own in-between peers, despite coming of age in not-too-distant periods, have not developed this trait), the record sounds like one of the most stubbornly hybrid and heavy works within the scene. Kill the Candle in the opening already lays out its cards, revealing a certain affinity with the post-hardcore-leaning scene reminiscent of Narrow Head; in Big Hips, with its slacker vein recalling Blue Smiley, Rae Haas’s voice and morbid screams become even more incisive in conveying emotional self-sabotage. Blue Ridge Mtns seems to borrow an arpeggio from The Cure’s Wish era; Return to Sender and Shape of an Angel are clearly the leading singles (especially the latter, particularly—and perhaps even unintentionally—radio-friendly), though they are also the tracks where the previously built-up unhealthy intensity somewhat disperses. Also worth noting is the closing track, Whispers in the Fog, which is especially Nothing-like in its deep distortion swells and solemn arpeggios. All Monsters is a record that clings with both hands and feet to the scene it emerges from, yet still seeks a margin of movement for more personal expression. Here, for instance, the vocals are more direct, with far fewer layers, and are further highlighted by an almost entirely mid-tempo tracklist, aiming to amplify the arpeggios’ sense of spaciousness in a somewhat distorted counterpoint to the skewed attitude of certain melodic lines. And while many acts within the nu-gaze wave rely on lyrics that remain vague to the point of emptiness, here one comes close to spelling things out almost literally. In its own way, it is a profoundly generational work.
