Album Review: Stuffed & Ready by Cherry Glazerr
Written by Darshak Chudasama on March 2, 2019
Slipping herself into a pink, silky nightgown with food stuffed on her palette, Clementine Creevy carries an electric guitar, ready to make one of 2019’s most emo albums.
If Cherry Glazerr was a movie, Creevy would be Tarantino—director, writer, and always the front-woman (man). With a vision and plenty of motivation, anything’s possible, well at least in this case. She began her career at the age of 15, releasing music on SoundCloud under the pseudonym “Clembutt.” After gaining some traction and releasing her first tape Papa Cremp, her DIY attitude soon began to pay off. Acting in a television series, modeling for an Aussie designer, and three albums later, the 22-year-old has steeply become a veteran to mass media. Interviews from the likes of Stereogum, Rolling Stones, and many more; she and her bandmates—bassist Devin O’Brien and drummer Tabor Allen —finally have the opportunity to showcase what seems to be their most intimate project yet.
On Stuffed & Ready, Creevy invites us to not only see, but feel what goes on behind closed doors. It takes the listener on an ephemeral journey that delves into depression in a way their Indie-Rock contemporaries are not able to. Cherry Glazerr doesn’t implement complex instrumentals or abstract songwriting, making most of the songs thematically straightforward. “Wasted Nun,” released as a single, and the opening track “Ohio,” feature dismal lyricism that feel nearly inescapable in the eyes of the narrator. Both supported by hefty electric guitars, weigh the listener down inch by inch, leaving nothing but thoughts of sorrow and sympathy. On “Self-Explained” and “Isolation,” we see a vulnerable side, a side that engulfs itself in depression and alienation. Creevy lives day to day in her thoughts. The pressure to hide her state of mind becomes overwhelming, hence her reclusive nature—“So isolated, I don’t wanna let people see/My isolation is simple and stupid as me,” she aches.
Thoughts of guilt are splattered throughout the entire album as the rhythmic guitar plays each individual chord. “Stupid Fish“ is the most combative track on the list, an internal battle that be it. A little less directional than the other tracks, it’s fueled by anger and confusion. Unlike most tracks on Stuffed, Creevy sings defiantly and unashamedly on the second track, “Daddi.” A F. U. to our patriarchal society, the anthem comes off just as satirical as it does weird. While singing permissively on each verse, she quickly gains enough momentum to explode—as she does on many tracks here—on the chorus. “Daddi” represents her outlook on relationships, tired of men who feel the need to be dominant and controlling. Whether or not you feel uncomfortable by her constant whispering of “daddy,” by the end of the song, you’ll be chanting the refrain “don’t hold my hand!” uncontrollably.
Stuffed & Ready is full of grunge elements but at its root, its punk rock. She has spoken many times on her experiences with sexism and verbal abuse. Voicing for her peers and herself against misogyny, see “Juicy Socks,” where Creevy speaks for those who can’t or don’t have the opportunity to. “Don’t be nervous,” she tenderly reminds those who want to speak out but haven’t had the courage, yet. But after listening to this record, those who were timid and/or ashamed may find the strength to do so. Clementine Creevy, as young as she may be, offers a personal album filled with vulnerability and a voice, a voice that will be heard particularly among today’s overshadowed masses.